Become Another Person
by purpleeyestelllies
Summary: In a universe parallel to our own, Clint and Loki are in a loving- if not kinky- committed relationship. While fighting the space-shifting forces of evil, Loki encounters a Clint he never knew and must tread through this new dynamic to get back to the Clint he loves.
1. I

"Morning, little bird," Loki whispered into Clint's ear as he looped an arm around his waist and pressed up against his back. Clint hummed, fully awake and alert instantly, but lazy and comfortable. Loki huffed a laugh when Clint didn't respond. He let his hand slide teasingly up Clint's side, across his arm, and around his neck where he squeezed and pulled Clint's head back towards his mouth. "When I speak, I expect an answer, darling."

Clint swallowed and felt his throat press against Loki's finger, groaning softly. "Good morning, babe," he wheezed out.

Loki's grip softened instantly, fingers going instead to stroke over his Adam's apple. "That's better." He fell onto his back, fingers sliding across Clint's collarbone and shoulder before disappearing and flopping onto the pillow next to his head. "Come," he ordered.

Clint didn't ignore him that time, turning over under the sheets and laying himself on Loki's chest. Loki hummed, pleased, and stroked his fingers through Clint's hair. Clint tucked an arm around Loki's slim chest, enjoying the coolness under Loki's skin on his bed-heated cheek. "I had a dream about you last night," Clint murmured.

Loki's attention perked up at that. "Did you? Do tell."

Clint settled more comfortably across Loki, one leg slipping between Loki's two solid thighs. "We were fighting." Loki made a concerned sound then, pulling Clint against him tighter. Clint only chuckled. "Don't worry, it gets better."

"Go on."

"It's like it was us but years ago, back when we first got together. Except you were still this you. I could tell. You were soft and strong and beautiful," he hid the word in Loki's chest, ignoring the rise of a blush on his neck. Loki rewarded his compliment with a firm scratch across his scalp, making Clint's eyes fall shut.

"Keep talking," Loki told him.

"I...I was different. Like back when I hated you." Loki didn't tense up, didn't react to what used to be a sore subject, so long ago. "I was petulant and yelling a lot."

"Some things do not change." Clint huffed and sank his teeth into Loki's pec, which only caused the god to laugh softly and wrap a hand around Clint's hip to pull him more fully on top of his chest.

"We were yelling about something...man, I can't remember, but then you got up in my space- you know, the way you used to when I wasn't listening to something really important."

Loki mumbled, "I recall."

"And you were looking at me that way you do."

Loki knew exactly what way he meant, but he asked anyway. "What way is that, little bird?"

"Oh!" Clint popped his head up. "You called me that, too. I did _not _like it."

Loki's brow furrowed. "I only call you that in private and you love it."

"I know, which is why this dream was so weird. I was so...anyway." He laid his head back down to take in the gentle rhythm of Loki's heart. "You were up in my face and I was so angry." He leaned his face into Loki's chest. "Then I just...kissed you." He accentuated the statement with a kiss to Loki's chest. "Angry and hard. I just smashed our faces together." They both laughed at that.

"And I let you?" Loki awed.

"Not for long," Clint scoffed. "You let me just long enough to get out my anger and then you pressed me back against a wall and took over."

Loki quirked up a brow. "Oh?" He slid his hand down to the curve of Clint's ass, just resting it to mark his territory. Clint nodded against his chest.

"You didn't really touch me though, which was weird. You just put your hands on the wall by my head and kissed me really hard."

The black-haired man pulled Clint's hips down against his own as he rocked against him. "Is that all I did?"

Clint squeezed Loki's side harder at the sweet sensation of friction and shook his head so minutely that it was only felt and not seen. "You did that," he told his lover. "Just like that. You were pressed against me, and-" He broke off and buried his face in Loki's neck. He was never good at stuff like that. Loki was the wordsmith, the talker. Clint preferred action.

Which Loki was well aware of. He gripped a handful of Clint's hair and pulled his head out of his neck. "Why don't you do to me what I did to you," he persuaded.

Clint nodded, pulling deliciously against the finger in his hair. He swiveled his hips until he was right on top of Loki, looking down at his mischevious eyes. He rolled his hips against his lover and ducked his head down to mouth at Loki's smooth neck, Loki releasing his hold easily. The god exhaled sharply, leaning his chin up to let Clint have better access.

Clint chuckled against his skin. "I did that, too, in my dream. Let you have at it, just put my head back and enjoyed it."

Loki's voice was sure, but Clint could feel the way his pulse beat faster against his lips. "I do not blame you for your figurative actions."

Clint smiled at that then bit down softly at the vein that was pressing purple against the white skin of Loki's neck. "I tried to keep my hands off you- in my dream- like I haven't since back when we both lived in the tower and you would stalk around with that attitude." Clint moaned at the memory and rocked his hips down again as he licked across Loki's sharp collarbone. "Your hair was so long then, and I remember wishing you could read my mind and pull me into some dusty office and fuck me."

Loki laughed, full and bright then. "I wished that same wish many times, my little bird. Very few times did I act on it."

Clint groaned. "Oh, I remember." He slid a hand up to Loki's neck but earned a reprimanding growl in response and moved it back down to his hip. "I'm sorry. May I?"

"First, finish your dream."

Obediently, Clint continued. "Where was I?" He rubbed soft circles into Loki's hips. "Oh, right. I tried to keep my hands off you, but only lasted until you whispered in my ear."

Loki's smirk was expected and welcome. "What did I say?"

Clint leaned down, lips just brushing. "I don't know." He pulled back and rolled off his lover. "I just remember grabbing at you and then you woke me up."

"That is too bad. I would love to have known," Loki mused. The archer turned onto his side and raised a brow. Loki held his gaze, both of them quiet for a moment before the god ceded, "You may," voice even yet toying.

Clint had a leg swung over Loki and was straddling his hips in a second. One hand spanned one side of his chest while the other slid back up to the perfect curve of Loki's neck. He reveled in being allowed to touch, took everything Loki would give him. His hands roamed, thumbed over a nipple and gripped a hip. He could feel Loki's evaluating gaze but kept his eyes on his target.

He shuffled down the bed, taking the covers with him as he moved down Loki's body and left soft kisses in his wake. When Clint reached the thin stretch of spandex holding Loki's underwear to his hips, he finally looked up for permission. Loki's was just about to say yes, lips parted and eyes alight, when an alarm rang through the apartment. Both heads swiveled towards the sound. Clint groaned and let his forehead thump against Loki's hip while the god sat up and asked, "Report?"

JARVIS's voice almost sounded apologetic when he said, _"There is a space differential opening hovering over the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The team has been alerted and will meet you on site." _

Clint crawled off the bed. "Any idea who's behind it?" He asked as he disappeared into their closet.

Loki shoved the covers back and smoothed his short hair off his face before getting out of bed. He waved a hand at himself and a sleek bodysuit of black and dark green armor appeared over his skin. Clint emerged from the closet a moment later, suit in a new slate grey that Tony had made for him to go with the arrows and quiver Loki got him for his birthday that year- a little something special: they replenished eternally.

_"Not yet, sir. Doctor Banner is working on the source from the helicarrier as we speak."_

Clint grabbed his bow from where it hung by their bed and turned to Loki. "We better get moving then."

Loki swept an arm out. "After you."

They were on Clint's bike and roaring down the busy New York streets when Loki pressed a com into his ear. Steve's voice was already going. _"...those people away from the area. Natasha?"_

_"I'm on it."_

"Cap? You have me and Loki."

_"Good to hear from you, Barton. Loki, since Thor is off planet, you're our resident magician." _Loki rolled his eyes while Clint bit down on a smirk. _"Banner will brief you on what he has so far when you get here. I'll need you on the roof to see what you can do. Clint, unfriendlies are trickling out of the portal. We've got a handle on it, but I'll need you to come take my place so I can get under the portal with Loki."_

He wanted to be the one to go with Loki, but this was business and they'd had this talk a few times already, so he just answered with a _yes, sir_ and gunned it down 5th Ave. Before they'd even reached the museum, they could feel the air being sucked out of the atmosphere and into the void that hung like a sore above the country's most famous museum of art. Clint came to a skidding halt at the base of the steps and looked up into the gaping space. There was nothing on the other side, just black and stillness. It left a sickening feeling in Clint's gut.

Loki was off the bike and kissing his cheek before Clint could pull his eyes away. That was all he got before Loki flicked his hands and green spirals of magic lifted him off the ground and towards the roof. Clint rolled his eyes and wished for the umpteenth time that Loki would gift him just one or two powers. He ran towards the tall building, already pulling an arrow from his quiver and aiming it at the roof. It released and approached the line where the building met the sky, opening into a claw and latching on.

Clint didn't falter in his rhythm, just jumped up the side of the stone wall as he clicked the other end into place on his belt and let it lift him to the roof in a smooth, easy motion. As he ascended, he saw Natasha rushing people out of the museum and putting a shot through what looked to be the enemy in head to toe white. The rest of the team was on the roof when he jumped over: Barnes was popping off shot after shot, only half of them hitting solidity, the others going through the white bodies like air; Tony was flying above the museum but giving noticeable distance to the hole in the sky while he took out newly appearing forces; Steve was running across the roof with Loki to be right under the thing, already communicating with Bruce.

Clint heard a rustling and swung to his right as he notched an arrow, releasing it into the white form running at him. It went straight through but didn't stick. Clint notched another and activated the explosive in the tip before shooting it. That took the thing out, but Clint wasn't happy about it taking two. He pressed a hand to his com. "Someone want to explain why my arrows are going right through them?"

Bucky's voice chimed in. _"They can shift or something. You have to catch them off guard so they stay solid."_

Clint huffed. "Thanks for the heads up."

_"Maybe you should get here on time next time," _Bucky jabbed with a smile in his voice.

Clint notched another arrow and didn't turn towards his target until the last second, taking it by surprise and catching it in the heart. "We were busy when we got the call!"

_"Ew. TMI," _Natasha added.

_"Stay focused,"_ came Steve's appropriately authoritative voice. _"Loki thinks he can close this thing up but we all need to clear the area."_

Clint's focused pinpointed on the slim form of his partner across the roof. "What? No way." Only because he was narrowed in on Loki could Clint see the shake of his shoulders. He was laughing. The bastard.

_"I will be fine, Clint. I cannot be harmed by my own magic. You on the other hand..."_

Clint wished Loki was looking at him then so he could see the worry in his eyes. He didn't like the plan. "I'm not leaving you up here by yourself."

_"Clint, this is our best shot," _Steve reminded him.

"I don't care-"

_"Barton," _Loki hissed into his com, and Clint promptly pressed his mouth shut. Loki never used their power dynamic against him during battle unless he thought he was absolutely right.

He always was.

"Okay," Clint acquiesced. "I want constant communication, Loki. I mean it."

Everyone on the roof began running for the edges, but Clint couldn't quite move. This was all wrong. He could feel it in his core. Loki must've somehow been able to feel him there still because he turned to look at Clint for a second. The look in his eyes was confident, even from halfway across the roof. Clint had to trust him.

He turned and took off towards the edge of the roof, glad he didn't have a chance to disconnect the suspension line attached to his belt. He swooped over the edge of the building just as he felt the shift in the air. Loki must be working his magic. Suddenly, the sky turned dark around the outside of the hole and the wind swirled around the building.

Clint reached the ground, disconnected, and ran out far enough to see what was going on. "Loki? Everything okay?"

There was a silence that was too long for Clint's liking before Loki answered, _"Darling, why don't I update if it's bad news? I need both of my hands."_

Clint huffed and raked a hand through his hair. He hated being useless. He hated leaving Loki up there to deal with a gaping space hole by himself. He hated the sinking feeling in his gut that this was going to end badly. He shoved a thumbnail between his teeth and nibbled, pacing unnervingly until Natasha ran up to his side and held him firm with two hands.

"Relax. He's a pro at this stuff," she reminded him.

Clint nodded, shoving down the icky rolling of his stomach. "Yeah, I know. I just can't shake this feeling-"

The sky roared, diverting both of their attention, as the hole collapsed in on itself, swirling smaller and smaller. It shrank until it was nearly gone before it exploded and a surge of black fell down from the sky towards the roof of the Met, towards Loki.

Clint forgot he had to press his com to actually speak to Loki; he forgot he was supposed to be a professional superhero; he forgot to do anything but scream Loki's name towards where the black was billowing around the place on the roof where Loki was standing. He lurched forward to go get him, but Natasha grabbed him and yanked him back. One second the darkness was there, blackness growing and leaking over the edges of the building, and the next it was sucked back up into the sky and gone along with the hole.

Clint's hand fumbled for his com and he shouted, "Loki!" Silence. "Loki, dammit answer me!" When he received only silence he pressed the com again, but this time shouted, "Tony, get here now! Take me to the roof."

_"Clint, I don't know-" _came Tony's hesitant response.

Bad sign. Tony had been hovering nearby when the sky exploded. He had a better vantage point than Clint. "Right fucking now, Stark!" he demanded as he started running towards the museum. Within seconds, Clint felt the air whoosh around him and then Tony was grabbing him around the waist and lifting him into the air. He could see the roof before they landed, and it was exactly as Clint feared.

Empty.

Tony dropped him gently where Loki had been standing moments before. Clint looked down at the spot, up at the empty sky and then back down before falling to his knees and feeling around the area with his hands like there was a trap door or something. "No, no," he mumbled as he frantically moved around the roof on his knees. "Loki, no."


	2. II

Loki strained to peel his eyes open; they were heavy and black edged into his vision. He couldn't move, his limbs leaden, but he finally blinked his vision clear and a grey ceiling came into view. He furrowed his brow, confused and too disoriented to try and make sense of anything. He looked to his left, saw the sure line of Clint's body in bed, the thin sheet hanging comfortably on him and he sighed. "Darling," he turned onto his side and reached towards his lover, "I had the worst-"

Clint was on his feet in an instant, bow pulled from under the bed and an arrow poised at Loki before the god was cognizant enough to even drop the hand he'd reached out. "You have three seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," Clint warned.

Loki pushed up into a sitting position and shrugged like that was a terrible joke. "Because I love you," he reasoned like it was obvious.

Clint's bow faltered, lowering just a tiny bit as his face took on blatant shock, but in the next moment he was composed and his bow was steady again. "Stop talking," he ordered.

"Excuse me," Loki countered, "but you asked. Clint, this isn't funny. Put that down and come to bed."

Incredulousness took over Clint's features. "I'm not going anywhere near you, asswipe. How did you even get inhere?"

Loki shook his head, weary but sure Clint wouldn't hurt him, and stood from the bed. A bed that didn't feel like theirs, he noted. "I know today did not go as planned, but I am well," Loki assured him. "You do not have to fear." He patted his hands over his chest and stomach. "I am whole."

Clint pulled the string of the bow a little tauter. "Not for long unless you explain why you're here and haven't tried to kill me yet."

Loki scoffed, aiming for a laugh but not finding any hint of a joke on Clint's face so it fell flat. "My hawk, I-"

"Don't fucking call me that. Where do you get off?"

Loki smirked then, the opportunity too good to pass up. "Inside you mostly, but sometimes you enjoy it across your chest," Loki teased, eyes roaming over Clint's body hungrily. Clint had always encouraged his humor, saying he never laughed enough when they'd first met. It didn't appear as if Clint appreciated the joke though. Loki assessed Clint's narrowed gaze; the more he roamed, the more confused Loki became.

Clint was shirtless, almost always was in his sleep, but he looked different. Loki ran his eyes down the length of Clint's body, taking in each scar and bruise. Then he diverted them to the room they both stood in. They were on either side of a bed, a full not a queen like in their apartment. The walls and ceiling were a dull grey, not the peaceful seafoam green they'd decided on when they moved in. The window was in the wrong place and smaller.

Loki brought his eyes back to Clint, who was practically vibrating he was so tense. "You look like him, but you are not."

"Don't try to trick me. I'm not buying it. I don't care what-"

"You have wounds I do not know on him. I have memorized every mark on my lover's body and those are unfamiliar to me." Loki started to walk around the bed, ignoring Clint's demanded to _stop; don't move_. He came to stand inches from Clint, the tip of his arrow pointing directly at his face. "Your skin is pure where he is marred with scars- ones I gave him, ones I cleaned and healed for him." The god didn't want to think about what all of that meant, but there were few options leading to the current situation; he did not like any of them.

"The fuck are you talking about, Loki?"

"You are not my Clint Barton."

Clint actually laughed then, a sharp bark that shifted his hold on his bow for a half second. "Not anymore, buddy. You can thank my _many_ therapists for that."

Loki felt his heart rate increase. He was further from Clint- _his_ Clint- than he'd been in years, and if he was remembering the moments before he passed out correctly, his lover would be distraught and alone wherever he was. "I have to leave." He turned and started to walk towards the door.

"Not a chance," Clint argued and then Loki felt the small familiar whoosh of an arrow flying by millimeters from his body before it notched firmly in the wood of the door. Loki turned and Clint already had another arrow pulled from nowhere, placed, and was aiming it at him.

"I do not belong here," Loki informed him.

"Yeah, duh. There's not a reason in the world you would belong in my bedroom, but I can't just let you leave."

Loki sighed, long-suffering but somehow patient. "Clint, I could not stand to hurt you." The archer scoffed. "Please, do not do this."

"Fat chance, Silvertongue." Clint said the nickname with the hatred Loki had heard from his own people for the majority of his life.

Loki felt a bubble of disdain he hadn't felt towards Clint since the beginning rise to the surface. He had to remember that this wasn't the man he loved and Clint could very well have every right to behave as he was towards Loki. Knowing himself, Clint likely had very good reason to be wary around him. "Do not call me that, Hawk."

"You called me _darling_!" Clint shuddered at the memory.

"I wasn't calling you darling. I was talking to...Nevermind. I am going to leave this room and be gone from you. Do not concern yourself with me, I hope to be home within the day."

Clint huffed his own sigh and lowered his bow a tiny bit. "You're not understanding. You're not leaving."

Loki leveled him plainly. "I am."

Clint reaimed. "You're not."

The god swiped a hand and Clint's bow flung from his hands and onto the bed, leaving Clint shocked. "I am." He turned and moved towards the door, but he could hear Clint running at him. He swerved out of the way of Clint's first punch, letting the archer fall into the door, before pushing him back just hard enough to clear the way out. Clint came back quickly, throwing punches and lashing out with a kick or two, each one deflected easily by Loki's hands or magic.

Loki knew how Clint fought; he'd spent years fighting beside him. This Clint was similar in many ways, if not more enthusiastic than usual. Clint only became more determined, though, the more that Loki used his defenses. "Fight back!" Clint demanded.

"I will not harm you," Loki miffed between swats and blocks.

Clint pulled a roundhouse the god wasn't expecting, knocking Loki's head sideways and pooling his mouth with blood, much to Loki's surprise. "Since when?"

Loki gritted his teeth and breathed. He spat the blood onto the floor and knocked away another punch. "Clint, you are testing me."

Clint smiled at that. "Good to know." Another move Loki didn't recognize landed an elbow to Loki's ribs, making him double over enough for Clint to knee him under the chin. Loki stumbled back, angry. He wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve and set his hands alight with green swirls of magic, though it took more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Take care, Hawk. I still do not wish to hurt you, but if you will not cede, I will be forced to put you down." Loki launched a stunning spell at Clint, but it glanced past his shoulder as he ducked.

"I will never surrender to you."

Loki raised a brow at that. If only this Clint knew. "Do not speak so soon, little bird."

Clint growled and lunged at the god, coming cuff to cuff as they threw swings and spells at each other. Loki was learning that this Clint was more different from his own than he first thought. He had fighting techniques Loki wasn't as familiar with and he let his anger fuel him- something that his Clint geared away from with Loki's guidance.

Loki grabbed the wrist of the arm swinging towards him and flung Clint onto the bed. Clint rolled over and reached for his bow and the arrow that came loose from it and continued to roll off the other side of the bed. He renotched his arrow as he stood and shot it before Loki could say anything. Loki's eyes went wide, but his hand came up in time for his magic to kick the arrow off its trajectory, one that would have ended between his eyes, and land the arrow in his shoulder.

Loki hissed and stumbled back, which Clint took advantage of and leaped over the bed. He tackled Loki to the ground, a hand going to his neck. _Clint knows better than to touch me there without permission_, Loki's mind screamed irrationally. He knocked Clint's hand away and wedged a knee between them to push Clint far enough off him to break the arrow off so only the end was sticking out of his body.

Clint lurched forward again but Loki rolled out from under him and let Clint fall to the floor, crawling on top of him and pinning both hands behind his back with tight green swirls as cuffs. He placed his other hand at the back of Clint's neck and squeezed, inhaling the delicious scent of Clint's submission, involuntary or not. Loki leaned down and breathed in his ear, "Back in your rightful place, little bird."

The archer screamed and wriggled under Loki's weight, but he was pinned. "Fuck you! Don't call me that."

Loki couldn't help the pulse of his blood at seeing Clint under him like that. He hummed and stroked a thumb over the side of Clint's neck, right at his pulse point. Clint flinched away from the touch, but Loki's low, strong '_still_' froze him.

Clint swallowed hard and turned to place a hot cheek against the cool ground. His eyes flicked sideways, up at Loki, and he snarled, "Do it, dammit."

"Do what?" Loki asked as he scratched gently at Clint's scalp. He hadn't seen Clint this defiant since they first began working together. He remembered the first few times he bent Clint to his will consensually, and it made Loki's heart beat faster.

Clint scoffed. "Kill me. Just do it, stop playing with me."

Loki gripped Clint's hip firmly and nosed along the back of his ear. "I could never. What would my existence be without you by my side?"

Clint's whole body tensed and he made a noise Loki knew meant he was giving in but fighting it. "I don't-"

The door to the bedroom splintered from its hinges, flooding the dark room with light and noise. Loki leaned down over Clint protectively, covering his head with an arm and tucking his face into his neck to shelter him from the assault.

"Get off him, Loki!"

That was Tony's voice, but it sounded hard like Loki hadn't heard it in a long time. The next second, Loki was being pulled off Clint's back, making his shoulder scream in pain. His first instinct was to reach for Clint, to protect him, to connect with him, but both of his arms were bound in metal fists. Clint rolled over and looked up at Loki with an expression he couldn't decern. "Are you well?" Loki asked, quiet but insistent and just for Clint, while the other Avengers filtered into the room and aimed weapons at him.

Clint scrambled for something to say, confusion lacing the crease between his brows, but he said nothing. Loki did his own assessment in lieu of an answer, checking Clint's body for blood or wounds. When he saw none, he relaxed into Stark's hold and allowed himself to be pulled from the room.

On the floor, Clint watched him being pulled away as he tried to reconcile the last few things Loki had said to him. Natasha was by his side in a heartbeat and helping him sit up. "You okay?"

Clint nodded even if he wasn't sure, letting Natasha help him stand. "Yeah, I think so."

"F.R.I D.A.Y. alerted us that Loki had you pinned down in your room. What the hell happened?" Natasha seemed to be doing the same scan Loki had done, checking for damage. When she came up clean, her shoulders relaxed. Clint saw her features softening out of the corner of his eyes but he was busy looking through the doorway where Loki had disappeared.

"I have no idea."

Natasha looked back in the direction Loki had gone, following Clint's gaze. "Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

Clint didn't think about it until right then, but... "Yeah, I think so."


	3. III

Clint moved to the doorway and stood with Natasha while Tony and Steve dragged Loki out of the room by his forearms. Loki was stumbling back with them, eyes glued to Clint. The intensity of them made Clint shift his eyes to the floor. Natasha caught the moment and asked, "What did he say to you?" Clint only shook his head, not ready to say anything out loud, not with Loki right there. Natasha squeezed his wrist. "Whatever it was, you can't believe him. He's the god of lies."

"Mischief."

"What?"

Clint flicked his eyes back up to Loki, who was on his knees then. "He's the god of mischief, not lies."

"Same thing," Natasha decided and crossed her arms as she leaned on the destroyed doorframe.

Clint wasn't so sure. "Yeah."

Tony threw a punch, one with a little blaster behind it, and Clint heard the crunch of bone when it connected with Loki's cheek. Steve pushed a hand out towards Tony- a warning to chill out. The sound of the hit made Clint stand up straighter and pay attention. Loki's head twisted with the blow, but then his eyes were back on Clint in a second. "Please, look away."

The words weren't loud, but they pierced Clint in the chest as if Loki had screamed them. It was as if a physical hand rested on top of Clint's head, and he lowered it respectfully.

"Don't speak to him," Tony barked. "You look right here, right at me." When Loki didn't take his eyes off Clint, Tony grabbed him by the chin and forced Loki's face up to peer at the man looming over him. "You never get to touch him again, you understand me? Never again." Tony accentuated the statement with a forceful flick of Loki's head out of his grip.

Clint could see Natasha looking from him to Loki with questioning eyes. He didn't realize he was worrying his lip between his teeth until she asked, "How did Loki get into your room?"

Clint shrugged, focusing on his best friend instead of the whoosh of air leaving Loki's lungs when Tony kicked him onto his back. They started asking things of him, mostly the same things Clint had already asked. He bodily turned to face Natasha and mirrored her stance against the door frame. "I don't know. I woke up and he was behind me..." Clint words fell away remembering the moment of sheer terror at waking up to the vaguely familiar scent of the man that had taken his mind from him, then hearing his voice.

_Darling_.

Clint shook away the recollection and pushed on. "I pulled an arrow on him, but I couldn't just shoot him unarmed and obviously confused. I'm a killer, not a murderer."

"It's Loki. _He's_ a murderer." Clint faced the famed murderer again, keeping his face perfectly stoic as he took in Loki's bloody nose. It felt feral, what they were doing. He wouldn't treat anyone like that; it wasn't because it was Loki, he told himself.

He waved an arm out towards the god that was laying there loosely on the carpet in Clint's wide hallway while Tony yanked his head off the floor by his short hair. "You want me to be like him?" he threw at Natasha.

She took the words in and nodded, understanding, then turned to look at the scene before her, eyes flicking from Tony to Loki and back to Clint. "He has an arrow in his shoulder."

"Very astute."

"Don't bullshit me, Clint," she requested, no spite in her voice. "You shot him. How?"

Clint shrugged again, feeling helpless. "I don't know. I aimed for his head, but he knocked it off balance and it went in his shoulder instead. I didn't even know my arrows could pierce him." Another crack sounded through the hallway when Tony stomped down on Loki's hurt shoulder.

"Okay!" Clint shouted before he knew what he was doing. Everyone froze and looked at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and stepped forward. "He's not going to fight you." Clint connected with Loki's gaze and found that he knew it to be true. Loki was bleeding from the mouth, nose, and shoulder. He was breathing heavily and with a wheezing that assured at least a cracked rib. Loki didn't smile, but he tried. Clint barreled on. "He needs medical attention. Something's obviously wrong with him."

"You can say that again," Tony quipped. "This bastard killed thousands!"

"Tony," Bruce whispered and placed a hand on Tony's arm. "It won't make you feel better."

Steve's eyes ran over Loki's beaten body. "He probably doesn't any internal bleeding, but if you keep going, he will. If we know he's alive, Thor will come looking for him sooner or later."

Tony ignored them but didn't pull away from Bruce. "You're not even supposed to be alive! Thor told us you died." He did tug his arm away then, but only to cross them over his chest. "And doing some self-sacrificing bullshit, too."

Loki placed a hand on his stomach, trying to keep his labored breathing even. "Well, that doesn't sound like me."

"Exactly." He tilted his head towards Bruce like Loki was making his point. "God of lies."

"Mischief," both Clint and Loki corrected at the same time. Their eyes went to each other, surprised, and Loki did smile then while Clint grimaced.

"Can you get him out of here? I don't need more blood to clean up," Clint requested, disgusted.

Bruce was the one to reach down and lift Loki from the floor, far more gently than Tony would have while Steve got under the other arm and they carried Loki towards Clint's elevator door. Loki twisted around to look back at Clint like he needed to see him even then.

Clint couldn't look away. Loki was bloodied and haggard, but somehow just as beautiful as the first moment he'd ever seen him. Like Loki could hear his thoughts, he smiled at Clint with all the sweetness unafforded to a murderous god. Clint huffed and pushed off the frame to go assess the damage to his hall rug while the others departed. Blood had spread from Loki's shoulder wound, but other than that it was small splatters from his face. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you get someone up here first thing in the morning to clean this? And while you're at it, I'll need a new door."

_"Certainly, Mr. Barton." _

"Clint, F.R.I.D.A.Y. I've told you."

_"Of course, Mr. Barton."_

That made both Clint and Natasha chuckle as only two assassins could in the wake of blood-stained carpets. He walked down the hallway and into the living room, listening for Natasha's following footsteps. Sometimes he could hear them, most times he couldn't. That night, they were loud and clear and Clint took if for the soothing gesture that it was.

He flopped down onto his couch and waited for Natasha to do the same. She did and then swung her legs up to rest them on Clint's lap. The archer immediately took to rubbing small circles across her naked shin with his thumb while he held her ankle.

"He didn't," Natasha hesitated, "mess with your head or anything, right?"

Clint shook his head quickly, sure of that at least. "No, I feel fine. Like myself, at least." His head rolled back until it landed softly on the back of the couch. "As for the rest, I have no idea what's going on."

"He didn't even try to fight Tony. I thought for a second Stark was actually going to kill him."

"You didn't make a move to stop him," Clint noted. They both let that observation sink in between them for a long few minutes. "I did." That observation felt heavier, headier and took even longer to sink in.

"Why?" Natasha finally asked just when Clint was about to go somewhere dark in his head.

"I don't know," Clint answered automatically which earned a heel pressed into his thigh. "Okay, I don't-" He raked a hand through his bedhead and huffed. "He didn't fight me either."

"In your room?" Natasha wondered. "When we came in he had you pinned under him." Clint closed his eyes against the feeling of Loki straddling his hips, mouth against his ear. He did his best to keep from flinching but was off his game that night and Natasha knew him well. "He did something to you."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't a judgment.

"No," Clint breathed. "I don't know."

"Talk to me, Clint. If I don't debrief you, someone else will."

With a frustrated sound, Clint lifted his head and let it all come falling out. "He called me darling. His hair is shorter. He smells different and he refused to fight back." Clint pounded a fist against his palm. "I'm telling you, that is not the Loki we know."

Natasha didn't respond immediately, not that Clint had expected her to. She folded her arms across her stomach and wiggled her toes in an unspoken request that Clint rub her feet. He obliged, happy to have something to do with his hands.

"Darling?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Clint confirmed, unable to look at her.

"Did he call you anything else?"

Clint ran back over the names Loki had murmured at him, pleaded him with. My hawk. _Little bird_. That one rubbed him in all the wrong ways. "Not really," he lied. She knew he was lying, but she let him anyway.

"Did he say any else to you? Why he was here? What he wanted?"

Instead of his reflexive _I don't know_, he went back to think through his encounter with Loki. "He said I wasn't his Clint."

"As long as he knows," Natasha scoffed.

Clint let one edge of his mouth tilt up but said, "That's basically what I said, but I don't think that's what he meant." Natasha hummed an affirmation to continue, so he did. "He said," and Clint slowed down to get the wording exactly right, "I look like him, but I'm not."

"Like who?"

"I don't know," Clint answered honestly that time. "But I have a feeling it's...me? Maybe, I don't know. I shoot arrows, I'm not a scientist."

Natasha ignored his rant and went back to what he said. "You think he could mean you, but you don't think Loki was talking about you? Do I have that right?"

"I _think_," Clint urged, frustration lacing his words, "he meant a different Clint."

"There is no other Clint, Clint. You're Clint." She was being facetious and Clint pinched the thin skin on top of her foot as punishment. "Okay," she giggled, calming. "But really that doesn't make any sense."

"Is it the weirdest thing we've dealt with? He said that he hoped to be home by the end of the day."

"Asgard?"

"I don't think so. It seemed like he wasn't sure how to get to wherever 'home' was."

Natasha tilted her head in consideration and allowed, "What are we saying? That's not Loki?"

"Not _our_ Loki..."

"And you're not his Clint?" Clint winced at the phrasing but nodded. Natasha propped an elbow on the back of the couch and then placed her head against her hand. "How is that more believable than the theory that Loki is _lying_?"

It instantly didn't sit right in Clint's chest. Loki wasn't lying, he could feel it. "He's not. I just know it."

Natasha's tone was flippant. "Oh, you just know-"

"Natasha," Clint snapped. "I just know."

"Okay," she allowed and they dropped it. She settled more comfortably into the couch and tucked her hands behind her head. "You won't be able to see him; you know that, right?"

Clint hadn't really thought of it until right then. "I wouldn't want to."

"Uh huh," she answered, not even half convinced and Clint pointedly ignored her.


	4. IV

He couldn't go back to his bed that night. He couldn't walk past the pool of blood and the shattered door frame and lay down in the bed that Loki had been in just a short hour ago. He couldn't take the chance that it would happen again- which was ludicrous obviously, but he couldn't. So he slept on the couch in the living room under the worn blanket Natasha had gotten him in Budapest.

Well, 'slept' was a generous word for the few hours he spent tossing and turning on the not quite soft cushions as visions of Loki's bloodied mouth transitioned into the ruthless smile he'd turned on Clint as he tapped the tip of the spear against his chest. His dreams turned to nightmares, ones he hadn't had in years, ones he thought he'd gotten rid of for good along with the raven-haired demon god.

Clint was ripped from painful restlessness by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s announcement that there were two people ascending the elevator to come and fix Clint's apartment. The archer usually tried to be civil even though F.R.I.D.A.Y. was a machine and had no feelings, but he just couldn't after the night he'd had. He just grunted in acknowledgment and pushed himself off the couch. He headed straight for his bathroom where he gargled some mouth wash and then used it to swallow down three pain relievers.

At the wooshing sound of his elevator door opening, he peeked his head out of the bathroom door and hollered through his bedroom, "End of the hall."

A stocky man with a tell-tale beer belly and a tall, lithe woman with fire-red hair stepped carefully over the blood stain and into Clint's bedroom. Clint, hair still a mess from tossing and eyes blurred from lack of real sleep, stripped off his old shirt despite the company and pulled a new one from his drawers.

"I'm here to clean the blood and she's going to see what she can do about your door. Sound good?"

Clint didn't even turn around, aware he was just being rude but didn't have it in him to care. "Yeah, thanks." He pulled his sweats off and yanked a pair of jeans out from the next drawer down. Behind him, the pair sounded like they were getting to work, and Clint couldn't ignore it forever.

He turned towards his bed and looked at the mess of it. His sheet and comforter were thrown nearly off the bed, hanging on by one thick, bundled corner. One pillow was on the floor and the other was ripped. He didn't even know when that had happened. Huffing, he went and sat down on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping tiredly. He looked on as the duo scrubbed and measured.

Loki had been right there. Clint closed his eyes against of vision of Loki on the bed behind him, reaching out. _Darling_.

He shuddered and stood up from the bed. "I'm heading out. Just let yourselves out when you're done," he told the workers. They murmured understanding as Clint pushed into shoes and grabbed his phone. He was just approaching the elevator when it opened.

Steve's face was stoic as usual but broke into a tiny smile when he saw Clint was up and dressed. "Oh good. They sent me up because we all thought you'd be terrible to deal with after last night." Clint raised a brow, doubtful. "Well, all of us except Natasha. She guessed you be awake and grumpy."

Clint was tired of waiting through pleasantries. He just wanted to get outside in the fresh air. "What do you need, Cap?" he demanded, confirming Natasha's bet.

"Meeting and debrief downstairs," Steve offered, tone back to business.

No. Not a meeting. The last thing Clint needed was to be stuck in a room with a bunch of suits. "Natasha already debriefed me." It wasn't an excuse that would work, but he tried it anyway.

"It's not your debrief," Steve informed him and waved Clint on the elevator. Clint tapped down a petulant groan, but barely, and boarded. "It's Thor's."

He should've known. Where Loki went, there too was the god of thunder. "That was fast."

"We called him."

Of course. Loki wasn't a foe they let rot in a cell; they wanted to know what was going on and they wanted to know now. "So why do you need me?" The elevator was slowing down, approaching the desired floor.

As the doors opened, Steve answered, "He won't talk to anyone but you."

"Thor?"

Steve stepped off the lift but turned back to Clint. "Loki." Then, he walked off towards the long row of offices, expecting correctly that Clint would follow. Clint only followed out of habit. His feet were moving but his brain was still back on the elevator.

Loki would only talk to him. Figured. The god of torture and chaos and ruin wasn't done with him yet.

"What if I don't want to talk to him?" Clint asked, much like an unruly child, as they approached a glass door that held the Avengers on the other side.

Steve paused, palm against the edge of the door. "This isn't about you," he reminded the archer and led him into the room. The conversation was flowing but came to a screeching halt when they saw Clint.

Clint walked up to the table but didn't take Cap's lead and sit. He stood behind a chair and awkwardly folded his arms. The silence thawed when Thor walked from the head of the table to pull him into an unnecessarily constricting hug.

"Barton, my friend. How are you?"

It was so hard to stay bitchy when Thor was so warm and welcoming. Clint folded his arms around Thor and said, "Tired, but what else is new?"

Thor pulled back, barked a laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. Clint held back his wince. "We have much to discuss."

"Yeah, I heard."

The god nodded, like that was something to really think about before clapping his hands together and saying, "When may I deliver my brother back to our home?"

Tony was up and shouting before Thor even finished the sentence. "He's not going anywhere. We let you take him last time and he somehow escaped not once but twice."

Steve was standing then, too. "Tony, let's take a breath."

Then Natasha was standing, smoother and not as angry as Tony had. "He's escaped from us before, too."

Tony waved an arm towards the blond immortal. "From what I remember, Thor had a hand in that, too."

"We're not equipped to hold someone like Loki here," Bruce offered, standing but backing up from the table as he spoke.

"You speak truth, Dr. Banner. I can ensure the security of Loki's imprisonment this time."

"Oh yeah? Did Odin update his DDT?" Tony snarked. Thor didn't look confused, but more like he didn't care to understand.

Clint looked over at Steve with a raised brow. _Why am I here again? _he seemed to say. Steve sighed and put a hand up, palm out. "Guys!" The noise in the room broke, filtering to silence after a few seconds. Steve looked to Natasha. "Why don't you tell everyone what you ascertained from Clint's debrief."

Natasha stayed standing while everyone else took a seat. Clint had an inclination to feel slighted that he wasn't speaking for himself on the matter, but as soon as Natasha started talking, he was glad he didn't have to. "We have reason to believe that the person currently being detained might not be the Loki we know."

"Speak plainly, Widow. Do you have my brother or not?"

The redhead locked eyes with Clint before looking to Thor and answering. "We have a Loki in custody."

"A Loki?" Tony urged. "What does that mean, _a_ Loki?"

"Clint's testimony along with preliminary testing concluded that the person in that cell may not be the Loki from our Earth." Natasha darted a warning look at Tony when he went to interrupt. "We believe he may be a Loki from a different..."

"Universe," Clint finished for her. "He's not from our universe." Clint's mind had done some wandering during the fits of insomnia between forceful dreams throughout the night. It was the only thing that made sense.

"A Loki form a parallel universe?" Bruce questioned. "How would he have gotten here? We haven't detected any sort of disturbance."

"We don't know," Steve followed up. "Which is why we need Clint to go in and talk to him."

"He's refusing even my company," Thor added. "I cannot take him home if he is not truly the brother I know and he says he will only see his hawk."

Clint's mouth instinctually snarled at that, but he swallowed it down and said, "I don't know what you think I'll get out of him. He hates me as much as I hate him."

"Our Loki, yeah, but what if he's not our Loki," Natasha clarified. "You said _that_ Loki didn't want to fight you last night." The archer could only nod, relieved she hadn't mentioned the nickname Loki had used for him or any of the other humiliating details he'd told her the night before.

"Is it possible that this Loki doesn't have the same history with you in his timeline?" Natasha sat down then but leaned forward in her chair to speak seriously. "He's either a threat or he's innocent. Either way, we can't just leave him in a holding cell forever."

Clint knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "Send in someone that will _make_ him talk."

The other assassin shrugged and sat back, easy as you please. "We could do that, but if he is an innocent version of Loki, then we torture him without cause. Are you willing to torture an innocent man?"

She knew he wasn't; she was playing on his humanity- the largest difference between them- in front of a room full of heroes. "No," he grit out.

"Good, then we're agreed. We send Clint in for information but keep other tactics on the table in case we don't like what we hear," Steve declared. With that, the meeting was adjourned and Clint was left with a headache and a pit in his stomach.

He sat there, staring at the glass table, while everyone else filed out. Natasha stopped to place a gentle hand on his shoulder but didn't say anything and followed the others. Clint didn't want to go see Loki. He didn't want Loki in his bedroom, much less in his head.

But if that wasn't Loki- their Loki- then he wasn't guilty of the same crimes as their Loki. Maybe he was completely different. Maybe he and Clint were even friends where that Loki was from. He'd regarded Clint kindly enough the night before. _How_ kindly Clint didn't dwell on; he could only handle one crisis at a time.

He huffed and pushed away from the table, standing up from his chair and staring down the large glass wall that looked out on the busy New York streets. From this high up, he could jump and never even-

He hadn't thought like that since...

He couldn't let himself go back to that place. He couldn't let Loki take him back to that place. He had to face Loki head on and take charge of the situation. He had to be brave.

Clint slapped a hand on the table, resolute, and stomped out of the conference room to the elevator. "Med bay, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he told her, though he was sure she knew.

_"Right away, Mr. Barton."_

"What is it going to take for you to call me Clint?" he asked to the ceiling of the elevator as he began to descend.

There was a pause, like F.R.I.D.A.Y. was actually thinking, and then she said, _"Convincing Mr. Stark to rewrite my programming...and a nice cache clearing. I love those."_

Clint honestly couldn't tell if she was joking; she'd been so deadpan. But Clint was nothing, if not sarcastic, so he agreed, "I'll get on it as soon as my world stops falling out from under me."

_"Speaking of..."_ The elevator came to a soft halt and the doors dinged open on a sterile white hallway.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

_"My pleasure. Mr-"_

"Don't start," he cut her off and walked out of the lift. He wasn't sure which room Loki was in, but since it was Loki he was sure he'd figure it out sooner rather than later. Sure enough, a loud bang came from a room at the end of the hall and Clint heard Loki's imperial voice shouting, _"I must go home, you fools!"_

Clint rolled his eyes. Their Loki or not, his temper hadn't seemed to change. He walked down the empty hall to the door with the noise behind it. The curtains were pulled across the large observation window so he couldn't see what was going on. He scanned his badge at the door and it clicked open. With one last deep breath to pull himself together, he stepped inside to face the man that took him apart.


	5. V

A thick plastic chair clanged against the wall next to Clint's head, making him duck. A woman gasped, but then the room fell into silence. When Clint straightened back up and looked over to the god of mischief, he was looking right at Clint, hands cuffed in power dampening cuffs trembling in front of him as the last whispers of green dissipated from them.

"Clint," Loki whispered, like the name itself was too heavy for his tongue to carry. "You came."

Clint wanted to look away from the weight of Loki's eyes, but he refused; he'd already given enough of himself to that man. "I didn't have a choice," he said evenly then turned to the nurse that was holding a syringe of something. "Give us a minute?" It was a question, but also an order, and the nurse took it as such, leaving with a scared nod. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Loki took a step towards Clint. In the same moment, Clint drew a pistol and aimed the barrel at Loki's head.

"Hawk," Loki breathed, sweet and tempting, "we don't need that."

Clint fired off a shot about four millimeters from Loki's head. To Loki's defense, he didn't flinch, but his eyes closed and he gave a disappointed sigh. The archer pointed the gun back at Loki. "Don't call me that, or anything of the other monikers you've got, or I will put one between your eyes," he lowered the gun to Loki's crotch, "and one between the legs. Not in that order."

Loki's lips turned up in what could only be described as a pleased smirk. "You are just as defiant as my Clint," he noted.

Clint wasn't in the mood. "Sit down on the bed, hands where I can see them." Once Loki obeyed, Clint pulled the fallen chair back across the room and sat in it a few feet from the raven-haired man with his gun still in his hand on his lap. "Who are you?"

That seemed to amuse Loki further, his smirk breaking into a smile, one that seemed genuinely happy and looked all wrong on Loki's face. "I am Loki Odinson, child of Jotunheim and fellow Avenger." He added the last part with a haughty lift of his chin, proud beyond belief of something their Loki would spit at.

"I've always known you more as a lone wolf," Clint challenged.

Loki nodded, seeming to ponder the statement, before locking his gaze with Clint's and saying, directly into him, "Until I found you."

A shiver ran down Clint's spine, but he couldn't for the life of him tear his eyes away. "Not me."

The god hummed at that. "No, not _you_, but one like you all the same."

The question was hovering in the air like the cloud over Hiroshima, except the bomb was just about to go off. Clint didn't fidget, don't adjust in his seat. He set his jaw and asked, "You and the Clint where you're from- you're together." Well, he'd meant it as a question, but with each word he spoke, the truth of it became more and more apparent, and by the end it was a statement of fact.

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "He is mine."

That broke Clint's composure. His jaw tensed and he had to cast his eyes to the floor. "You're controlling him," he assumed. "You still have the staff."

Loki's laugh broke the silence like a sledgehammer in a house of glass, brutal and sharp. Clint flicked his eyes up to see Loki's smile was full and squinting his eyes. "I haven't had the staff in many years, and Clint has not been under the influence of it for months longer. Though he is still under my control."

"How?" It came out more desperate than Clint intended and he checked himself, sitting straighter in the chair and clearing his throat.

Loki actually looked confused. "Because he chooses to."

A bitter laugh broke from Clint's chest at that. "Yeah, right. I would never."

The god shifted on the bed to cross an ankle over his knee and settled bed-chained hands in his lap. "You speak so surely, yet I can seen the doubt in your words." Clint couldn't bark back; he knew anything he said right then would give him away. Loki didn't mind, just kept talking. "You refuse to acknowledge what it is you truly want. My darling Clint did the same when we first began our journey. You and he are much more alike than you realize."

Every word made bile rise in Clint's throat, but he swallowed it down and seethed, "You don't know anything about me." It was childish; he couldn't help it. He wasn't an interrogator- that was Natasha's job.

"Do you have the same set of three large freckles on the inside of your left thigh?"

That surprised Clint enough that he instinctively squeezed his legs together like Loki could see them through his jeans somehow. "How do you..."

"I've kissed them many times."

"Oh, god..." Clint stood from the chair, shoving it back so hard it fell backwards with a bang.

Loki simply traced Clint's movements as he started pacing the room. "I know you enjoy raisin bread without the cinnamon. You have read every Tom Clancy novel, and forced me to read many of them as well." Clint snapped up to look at Loki, sure he'd heard wrong- _you forced me_\- but Loki was tamping down a smile as he kept talking. "You prefer morning sex to afternoon sex. You enjoy being taken from behind and you once sat on your knees for two hours with my cock in your mouth."

"Stop it!" Clint screamed, mouth dry and the hand that wasn't holding the gun was shaking. He stuffed the offending hand under his other armpit and turned away from the man on the bed. He hated that Loki was enjoying this; he hated that Loki had so much to say about him; he hated that it was all true- save for sucking his cock for two hours, that was news to him. The news made his stomach roll and he rushed to the corner where a small trash can sat and vomited into it gracelessly.

"Clint?"

That was concern- real, genuine concern- in Loki's voice. Clint couldn't take it. "Shut up," he growled, throat hoarse. He pointed the gun behind him haphazardly and said, "Shut up or I blow your pretty face off," as he leaned a sweaty palm on the cool wall. Clint took in sucking breathes and reminded himself to _calm. down._

He'd just brought his heart rate back into normal range when Loki piped up. "You think me pretty?"

It took a long second for Clint to realize what he was taking about, and then the archer cursed himself for the slip. He'd never have let that happen if he wasn't so _confused_! And the god was so confident it made Clint's skin crawl. He turned around and shot a bullet at Loki without hesitation. He wasn't sure if Loki would dodge it, and in the moment he didn't much care.

Loki leaned his head over, just a few inches, and tracked the bullet as it whizzed by and embedded itself in the wall. His head snapped back to Clint's with a look caught between impressed and put out. Clint rolled his eyes and shot another bullet at the wounded shoulder he could see was bandaged up under the collar of his dressing gown. That one landed, making surprise and pain wash over Loki's face. "For Hel's sake, Barton, stop shooting me!"

Clint lowered the gun and walked back to the chair, righting it and sitting. "I told you to shut up."

"I have never taken you more seriously, my hawk," Loki assured but there was a sparkle in his eye that undermined the statement. Clint raised the gun towards his again and Loki flinched.

"I also told you not to call me any more nicknames," Clint informed him calmly, glad to be taking some of the control back in the situation.

Loki was starting to vibrate, eyes growing black and dangerous. "I should spank you for that." That startled Clint. He measured Loki with incredulous eyes; he must be joking. The hole in Loki's shoulder was already healing as sheer green tendrils snaked around it. The god's face turned leering and playful at the same time somehow, and Loki continued, "I should put you over my knee and mar your skin with welts and bruises."

He opened his body up, spreading his knees and leaning back, making himself appear three times his size. "I would rip your clothing to shreds and chain you to the bed. I would shower you in pain and pleasure until you wept, and not before you begged me for mercy would I touch you." He licked his lips. "I would devour you, taste you and fill you and turn your mind to white nothingness. I would _break _you."

Loki was standing before Clint could even blink, his reflexes dulled by Loki's words, and glowing with a power that made the archer's mouth run dry. The chains connecting Loki to the bed disappeared- maybe they hadn't been there for a while- and he advanced on Clint, a predator stalking his prey.

Clint was an easy kill in that moment, shaking yet frozen. Loki gripped him by the throat and lifted him from the chair, turning them both around and tossing Clint on the bed. The archer sluggishly brought his hands up to protect himself, but then Loki was grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the bed. He leaned down, pressing between Clint's thighs, and growled lowly into Clint's ear, "I would take you apart piece by piece until you were nothing and then I would play with each broken, exposed part until you were reshaped into _mine_."

The archer felt a broken whimper in the back of his throat, and must have loosed it because Loki snarled, a feral sound bubbling from him, and crashed his mouth against Clint's. The kiss could barely be called such. It was wild and forceful, Loki taking everything he wanted from Clint and more while Clint begged him with his sounds to be gentle and to hurt him all the same. It was a feeling he hadn't faced since Manhattan.

Loki locked Clint's wrists into place with green swirls as handcuffs and used his newly-freed hands to push under Clint's shirt and rake his nails down his sides. Clint bowed off the bed, pressing into Loki's body and felt warm skin against his shirt. Loki must have vanished the hospital gown at some point and was flattened against Clint's chest so tightly there wasn't space to breath without feeling the breath in Loki's body. The god slid both hands under Clint's body, cupping his ass in his jeans and pulling their hips together. Clint keened, breaking the kiss to throw his head back.

"Tell me what you want," Loki ordered, soft but firm at steel.

Clint heaved in gulps of air, trying to straighten his mind out. What did he want? What _did _he want? "More," he murmured, and buried his face in his arm as punishment.

"As expected," Loki recognized and waved all of Clint's clothes away except his boxers. The cool air of the room flooded Clint's skin, making him shiver under Loki's touch. The near-immortal couldn't keep his hands still, roaming Clint's body with possessive gestures and erotic movements. He tilted his head down and bit at the column of Clint's neck. The archer hissed and lifted his legs to wrap around Loki's hips, heels pushing into the backs of his thighs in encouragement.

Loki kept touching Clint but didn't dip into the waistband of his underwear and didn't touch his beckoning erection. Clint tried to steer him in the right direction, arching for him and spreading his thighs, but Loki only rammed their barely clothed hips together again in a painful yet appetizing surge of friction. The god hummed, sympathetic, and licked over one of Clint's nipples.

"Please," Clint begged, tugging at the green cuff of magic but finding no give, then, more forceful,"Touch me."

It was a demand and not a request, one that made Loki still and shake his head. The physical will it took for Loki to pull back was clear. He brought his hand up to rest on Clint's stomach, looking down at him like he just realized something before saying, "You are not thinking clearly. You look like mine, but you are not mine." Clint huffed, annoyed, but Loki gripped his hip. "I would give much to take you, in any universe, but not like this." With that depressing news, Loki gave Clint one more kiss and stood up, leaving Clint to shiver as air hit his sweating body.

"Don't do this," Clint begged. "You have me here, take me, dammit. Isn't this what you wanted the whole time? Isn't this what you wanted when you-" The archer squeezed his eyes shut.

War raged through Loki's features but he only took another step back and answered, "Not like this. I have pushed you too far and I apologize. I should have known better," he pushed fingers into his short hair and shrugged, "but I do not always think clearly when you are involved either." Loki came and sat next to Clint's still sprawled body on the bed and felt the man shivering. He released the cuffs with a wave of his hand and beckoned the archer with, "Lay here," and a pat to his lap.

Clint hesitated as he pushed blearily onto one elbow, but Loki promised, "I will tell no one of this. Please." He sounded so needy, not like Clint had ever heard him before, and that made the mortal curl up on Loki's lap as the god leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed. "Thank you," Loki whispered and laid a gentle hand on Clint's neck, stroking his jaw with a thumb and singing softly until Clint finally got the sleep he needed.


	6. VI

Clint boarded the elevator in a haze. He still had sleep in his eyes and the taste of Loki's goodbye kiss on this tongue. No amount of coffee or drugs could've made sense of Clint's mind in that moment. As he rode up, the elevator stopped and opened for someone else. It didn't matter who, Clint couldn't oblige company right then.

"You okay, man? Did you see Loki yet?"

Bruce. Kind, gentle Bruce.

Clint wanted to claw his eyes out and run back downstairs and into Loki's arms and- He had to stop that train of thought right there because Loki was the enemy and the enemy would do anything to defeat you. That was what Loki was doing, whatever it took to...defeat...him. He believed it less with each second.

"Yoohoo, Clint?"

The archer blinked hard, willing away the fog in his head and looking over at Bruce. "Yeah, sorry. I talked to him. We should debrief."

He must've looked a wreck because Bruce patted him on the shoulder and said, "You should get some sleep first, Barton. We'll debrief in a couple of hours." He hopped off the elevator and continued with his day, so unaware of the implosion that was Clint's mind as he rode the lift up to his apartment on auto-pilot. When he entered, it was empty. The workers had apparently done all they could do and left, leaving behind a silence that made Clint's ears ring.

He walked down the hall, hands shaking by his sides. The blood stain was gone but the carpet was still wet. The door frame wasn't fixed but had been removed completely. There was a note on the wall next to the open hole of a door that read, _The new door will be here tomorrow. I'll be back to install it whenever you're ready. Thanks._

Clint eyed the raw edge of wall where his door has been and wished it were that easy. He wished he could remove those parts of himself that needed to be disposed of. He wished he could gauge them out and simply replace them with shiny new ones on command. Then no one, _especially Loki_, could take advantage of them and use them to make him weak and vulnerable.

Clint felt undeniably exhausted. He'd slept for nearly two hours on Loki's lap, in Loki's bed, and woken up feeling better than he had in months, but then reality came crashing in and he needed to puke again. Loki had been awake, combing fingers through his hair, when he'd woke and then he'd spent nearly twenty minutes trying to convince Clint it was okay that he'd fallen asleep with him.

It wasn't.

When his raging fire was subdued to a smoldering ember, he walked out of the medical room with a heavy filter of self-loathing over his mind. He couldn't come to terms with what he'd done. He couldn't ever tell anyone- not even, _especially_ not, Natasha. They wouldn't understand. They would think his mind was messed up again.

It was but that wasn't the point.

He couldn't ever do that again. Clint needed to find a way to keep that piece of himself quiet so it didn't scream loud enough for Loki to hear. His team was depending on him and he couldn't let his weakness fail them.

It was too much to think about. Clint needed restful sleep away from mind-altering maniacs, and he needed it now. He flopped onto his bed in his jeans and only stayed awake long enough to kick his shoes off the end of the bed, blissful blackness covering his mind.

_A rooftop. A clear blue sky and a slight breeze that trickled over the shaved underside of his hair. Clint understood that wasn't right. His hair was short but not shaved, and not long on top like he could feel it was when he raked fingers through it. He stood differently, broken but not with self-hatred like he was._

_His shoulders were tight, forcefully so, in hopes of keeping himself together. He walked over to the back side of the roof, also empty, but Clint could feel there was meant to be something there. He looked down at the roof, dirty but lacking whatever it was he was looking for, then up to the sky, bright and beautiful and taunting._

_"Anything?"_

_That was Steve's voice but it sounded different, like he'd been through some stuff that Clint could only guess at. He turned and laid eyes on Cap. "Nothing."_

_Steve looked like Steve, except for one huge detail. His throat displayed a large, painful-looking scar running from one side to the other. It was faded and didn't seem to bother him, but it was taking all of Clint's attention. He didn't ask about it though, and he wasn't sure why._

_"I'm going to get reach out to Strange and see what he can do, but you should go home, Cap," Clint informed their leader._

_Steve held himself with that same righteous burning Clint knew so well. "I'm not giving up until we find him, Clint. Loki is one of us."_

_Clint tried to smile, but he didn't need to, not for Steve. "Thank you."_

_Steve only nodded and took off running for the edge of the roof, disappearing over the side and leaving Clint alone with his thoughts. The archer turned back to the spot he'd looked at before and an aborted sound creaked from his mouth as he fell to his knees. "I told you it was a bad idea," Clint whispered to no one. He doubled over, forehead pressing to the roof as tears slipped down his cheeks. "I'm so fucking mad at you, babe, but if you come home to me safe, I'll forgive you. No questions asked. I promise. Loki, please come back to me."_

Clint shot up in his bed, still on his stomach and a pile of drool on the sheet where his face was. His head was pounding and in need of pain relievers. He backed up onto his knees and stood from the bed, looking at it with betrayal in his eyes. He'd just wanted a few hours of restful, dreamless sleep and he couldn't even achieve that. The sun was setting outside his window, yet Clint felt like it should be the middle of the night with how tired he was.

He wandered over to the bathroom for meds and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Besides the dark purple bags under his eyes and the five o'clock shadow, he looked much the same as usual. His hair was short and laying untidy against his head. He didn't feel nearly as badass or as broken as he did in his dream.

His dream. Was it a dream? It didn't feel like any other dream he'd ever had. He felt more exhausted waking up after that than he did when he fell into bed. He'd been so despondent in his dream, and about what?

_Loki, please come back to me._

_He_ had said that in his dream. Clint found it hard to believe he would say such a thing, drugged and under threat of life and limb, much less of his own free will. It had to be a dream because that would never happen.

He tossed back a couple of pills and mechanically stripped himself for a shower. He was paler than he remembered, like his blood had better places to be. A nightmare always did that to him. But was that a nightmare? It didn't seem like one, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of hopelessness and heartache.

Clint traced one of the larger scars, a raised pink line that ran from his left hip to his left nipple to ground himself. He'd been sliced right up the side with what was apparently the "sharpest sword in all the universe and far superior to all Avenger's weapons". Whatever, it had hurt like shit was the point. He looked at the scar in the mirror, fingers toying with the healed but still prominent mark.

In the mirror, another scar faded into view, this one directly over his sternum. It was a thin smooth line that divided his chest in half. Clint squinted at it, reaching up to touch it, but when he laid his fingers there, it disappeared. The archer rubbed his eyes harshly and opened them again. The scar was gone, leaving his mostly unmarred chest in the mirror.

"You're losing it, Barton," Clint warned himself. He turned away from the mirror and into the shower, letting the warm wealth of water drip down his tired body. He needed to wash off the events of the past day; he needed to start fresh and get his mind right if he was going to help his team.

As he shampooed his hair, he reminded himself that Loki was just another enemy. He wasn't special and he sure as fuck couldn't _help_ Clint in any way. He was manipulative and devious and he couldn't be trusted. That Clint knew. He had to keep that in his mind every second or he'd slip, he'd fall back into what he and Loki had back in-

Anger boiled up, pooling in his arms and trailing down to his fisted hands as he swung an arm out and slammed the side of his fist into the tile wall so hard that the stone cracked. Clint startled at his own movement and leaned in to assess the damage. He really had to get a grip.

_"Mr. Barton, I apologize for intruding, but Mr. Rogers and the team are requesting your presence downstairs."_

Clint sighed; he wasn't ready for this. "Tell them I'll be down in ten. Wait no, make it fifteen."

_"Of course, sir."_

Clint rubbed his body down swiftly, rinsing and stepping out of the shower in a few minutes. He grabbed a towel, using it to dry his hair as he walked by the mirror and pointedly _didn't_ look at himself again. He went to his drawers while he dried his body and pulled out clothes.

What was he going to tell the team? They were going to want to know what information he got from Loki when he went down there. He didn't get much of anything, really. Maybe that was because he was too busy begging Loki to fuck him...

Ouch.

Clint shook his head of the thought. What could he tell them of value? Loki confirmed he wasn't from here. That was good. He was someone else's Loki and, hopefully soon, someone else's problem. What else? He'd mentioned that he and Clint were- Clint shuddered- together in their universe. The archer figured as much, but to hear it confirmed made his throat close up. He'd said that he was an Avenger in his universe. Laughable, but they had no proof to hold it as a lie.

With one more steadying breath, Clint headed towards the elevator in joggers and a t-shirt, barefoot because he hated shoes and rarely wore them if he was going about the tower. The ride down was even stiffer than it had been earlier that day. At least the first time he hadn't done anything explicitly wrong, even if Loki had turned his mind into a mess just by showing up. This time, he'd truly made some mistakes; he'd _let_ Loki into his head and enjoyed it. The team would probably lock him up if they knew.

When he arrived at the conference rooms everyone was there- everyone but Natasha. He always took Natasha's absence as a bad sign. Clint knew there weren't cameras in the med bay, so they couldn't have seen. That didn't mean Natasha didn't know. Maybe she was conferring with Fury about the next step.

He pushed the glass door open and was greeted by stoic faces. Thor's was especially hard and Clint looked away from him immediately like Thor could see his sin on his face. Steve saved him with, "Hey, Clint. I thought Bruce said you were going to rest before this."

"Gee, thanks, Cap. I look that bad?"

"You look tired, but who isn't. Can we get this show on the road or does everyone need another minute to admire Robin from the Hood?" Tony interjected, and Clint loved him for it.

"Testy," Clint noted without bite behind it as he sat in the empty chair left for him, between Thor and Bruce. They were all quiet, looking at Clint, and the archer exhaled noisily. "I went to see him." That seemed to be what everyone wanted to hear; they leaned forward in their chairs and listening intently. "He confirmed he's not from this universe."

"How can we trust what he says?" Tony countered.

Clint nodded, understanding. "Exactly, but if you want my personal opinion, I don't think he's lying."

"Why?" Bruce asked.

_Because our Loki never let me fall asleep on his lap. Because our Loki never called me darling. _"Because he's different," Clint settled on. "He looks different."

"So, he cut his hair. That doesn't change someone."

"It's not just the physical, although he's different there, too. He mentioned he was an Avenger back home." _And Clint's...boyfriend? lover? _Clint smoothed sweaty palms down the tops of his thighs. "He doesn't act like our Loki."

"Is he not still the god of mischief?" Thor questioned.

Clint shrugged. "I don't know, I guess. I didn't get to that, but he speaks differently and..." He's sort of sweet. "He's not fueled by revenge."

"A trademark of our good ol' Loki," Tony agreed.

The door slid open and then Natasha was saying, "He's not our Loki." Clint turned around to see the Widow with a baton in her hand, blood crusted on the edge.

"Nice of you to join us. Would you like to share what you ascertained?" Tony invited her to the table with a gesture of his hand.

Natasha took it, dropped the bloodied instrument on the table and sat. Clint couldn't stop looking at it. That had to be Loki's blood. She's gone down there and beat the shit out of him to get information. Why send Clint in the first place if they were planning to torture him anyway?

"Bruce found a disturbance," Natasha began and Clint's eyes finally peeled away from the blood to Bruce. The scientist looked about as disturbed by Natasha's weapon as he did, and he knew if his face looked like Bruce's he'd be a dead giveaway, so he schooled his features and looked to Natasha. "A few agents and I went to check it out. We found a lab of questionable experiments, but after...intense interrogation we were certain they had no part in it. They confirmed that an anomaly registered on their equipment around the time we found Loki here, but it wasn't their doing."

"He is not my brother," Thor realized, voice dropping off with a crack at the end. No one reached out to him, but Clint could practically feel the pity like a blanket in the room. "I held out hope that he was alive, but I am sure now." He stood, hammer hanging loosely in his grip. "I must see him."

"Woah, there," Steve cautioned. "We don't know how he'll react to you. He's said he doesn't want to see anyone but Clint."

Tony scoffed. "And we always do what the maniacal overlord says."

"If this Loki is truly the last I will see of my brother, then I must see him. If it will smoothe proceedings, Clint I ask you to join me."

"What?" Clint threw out, still distracted by knowing that wasn't Loki's blood on the baton and hating the relief he felt.

Thor clapped him on the shoulder. "We must go to this Loki so that I may receive closure."

"I don't really-"

"It would mean a great deal to me, Barton."

Clint hated when Thor's voice went all sincere like that. He groaned, "Okay, fine, but I don't want to talk to him."

"Great! Let us depart."

Clint sent a _help me_ glance around the table, but no one was really in the mood to mess with a lonely, hopeful Thor so they sat back and let Thor pull him up from the table and out the door. Barely any sleep, no food on his stomach, and there Clint was, off to see the man he hated most in the world for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. He thought be might just shatter into a million piece right there in the lift and then he wouldn't have to go.

He had no such luck.


	7. VII

Clint realized too late that Loki could get him locked up if he wanted- despite his promise. He could tell Thor everything he'd said, what he'd done, and then the team would surely put him in a dark corner and run tests on him that he didn't want to think of. He belatedly pleaded with Thor as they walked down the still empty hallway, "I don't know if I should go in there. I'll probably just be in the way."

"Nonsense, Barton. I value your presence if it will ensure my brother will converse with me."

The door to Loki's room was right there. He could feel his heartbeat start to race. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to go in there with Thor right then- _at all_, he meant. He didn't want to go in there at all. "Are you sure I-"

"Clint," Thor spoke firmly, stopping to face the archer. "I understand your hesitation. What my brother did to you is unforgivable, but this is not truly my brother. I am asking a great sacrifice of you, one that I will not soon forget."

_Ugh!_ He held back a lamenting groan and offered, "You're so lucky I'm a good guy."

"I am," Thor responded, too sincere and too sad.

Clint swiped his badge, the sound of the door clicking open making the blood drain from his face. He stepped back and held the door open for Thor; the blond god walked in and left Clint in the hall alone. He waited but didn't immediately hear shouting or bloodshed as he'd expected.

He went into the room before he could talk himself out of it, but the bed he'd found Loki on earlier was empty. He scanned the room and found Loki sitting on the floor in a corner, eyes open but empty. Thor was sitting on the bed in silence, waiting patiently. Clint wasn't sure what to do so he just stood at the door and let it hit him in the back when it shut.

Like Loki could sense their presence, he lowered his head and when it lifted again his eyes were present again. Those eyes landed right on Clint, seemingly ignoring his brother. "Clint. You spoil me with your visit."

The archer cheated his eyes to the wall behind Loki, not connecting with his intense gaze. "Thor asked me to come." That signaled Loki to look at the god of thunder.

"Brother," he greeted, kinder than Clint had ever heard him speak to Thor before. "I am sorry for refusing your company. You were smart to bring my hawk along."

"_Don't_ call me-"

Loki raised a hand, realizing his mistake. "Of course, Agent Barton."

"Will you speak with me now, brother?" Thor asked, fidgeting but not standing from the bed.

The god of mischief tilted his head towards Clint and raised a questioning brow. Clint realized he was asking his advice...or permission maybe. "I don't care who you talk to, Loki. I don't own you." He'd said it with more spite than he intended, but it was a soft spot with the god. Sue him.

Something about that seemed funny to Loki, who eyes twinkled as a smile lifted on his face. "Of course not, Agent Barton. You'd have no idea how to handle me."

Clint huffed a disgusted _ugh_ and crossed his arms over his chest. "Can you two just say what you need to say so I can leave?"

Thor took the opportunity and stood from the bed, coming to stand in front of Loki, and then- much to Clint's surprise- lowering himself to sit cross-legged, mirroring Loki. "You are not my brother," Thor concluded as his opening statement.

"No," Loki offered. "You are not my Thor."

Thor lowered his head, sadness making it heavy. "Is your Thor well?" Loki's mouth twitched, obviously holding something Thor didn't want to hear on his tongue. Thor knew his own brother well enough to recognize pause in this Loki, because he prompted, "If it is harrowing news, I would still hear it."

Loki held his gaze for a long moment, assessing the truth of his words, but must have seen the sincerity in them because he sighed, sad and defeated. "We have not spoken in many years."

"Not much has changed then," Clint scoffed, only realizing too late that it was rude.

Loki only flicked his eyes to Clint before asking Thor, "Your Loki, is he not by your side in this world?"

Thor shook his head slowly. "He is no longer with me." The absolute brokenness in Thor's voice made Clint sorry he'd popped off. The archer sank back against the wall and slid down to the floor to actually listen for once.

"Did he die bravely?" Loki wondered.

"He sacrificed his life for my own," Thor answered, words drenched in unshed tears.

Loki hummed and tapped his fingers on his knees. "May I offer a word of advice?"

Thor finally raised his head and looked at Loki, tears slipping onto his cheeks. "Please," he welcomed.

"Go find me," Loki said plainly.

"I do not understand." Thor was shaking his head even as Loki kept speaking.

"I am not dead," claimed Loki, surer than anything he'd said since he'd gotten here.

Thor clenched his hammer tighter in his lap. "How can you know such a thing?"

Loki took in a deep breath, closing his eyes around it and letting it out slowly. "I would know if I were dead." It was so simple, it was almost childish.

"You mean to say you have a connection with the Loki of my world?" Thor questioned excitedly.

"Nothing so tangible, I'm afraid," Loki confessed. "I cannot feel him per say, but I am sure I am still a presence in this realm."

Clint fucking knew it. He _knew_ Loki wasn't dead. He would've felt the weight lift if Loki were dead. Besides, Loki wouldn't be so kind as to leave this world and give Clint peace of mind. Thor leaned in, placed a hand over Loki's on his knee and squeezed. "What do you know of his current location?"

With a sad smile, Loki answered, "Nothing. If your Loki is anything like me, he is shielding himself from view."

Thor's voice was back to the authoritative, assuming way Clint knew it to be. "If you know how to find him, share it, brother."

Loki pulled his hand out from under Thor's and twirled his fingers just enough to displace Thor's hand from his knee. "I harbor no ill will towards you, but you will not demand anything of me."

"Loki, do not be selfish-"

"Do not speak to me of self-interest!" roared Loki, body still but eyes alight. He looked somehow stoic and vibrating at the same time. "I am not the same man you know, and I have lived another life, one you cannot possibly begin to understand. I owe you nothing, Odinson."

Clint realized that he'd pressed himself against the wall and his hand was on the knife at his hip. Loki slid his eyes from Thor to Clint and deflated. "I apologize, Agent Barton. You are not usually present for our little spats."

Thor stood and hovered over Loki, but the sitting god didn't take his eyes off Clint. The weight of them suddenly seemed soothing, like Loki was pushing relaxation on him through his stare. Clint felt his shoulders relax; his hand came back to his thigh.

Thor announced, "If you will not help me, I will find Loki on my own."

"Fine. Go," Loki dismissed him. "I hope that if you find him, you are more receptive to him than you are to me."

Thor's cape swished around him as he turned on his heel. He went and held a hand out for Clint. "We may go, Barton."

Clint was still staring at Loki, and Loki was still staring at him, and he couldn't explain his next words if you gave him a thousand years. "I think I'll stay for a few minutes." The look on Loki's face was pure delight.

The blond god's forehead creased, confused. "You do not need to spend any longer in this room with him. He is toxic."

Loki scoffed softly behind Thor. Clint took the offered hand and stood, but the moment he looked around Thor's shoulder, he knew he was staying. "I'm good. I'll meet you and the rest of the team in the common area for dinner, okay?"

"If you are sure..."

"He said he would like to stay, Thor. Trust him to know his own mind," Loki chastised.

Clint felt weirdly proud of Loki backing him up. It seemed that people were always questioning him, wondering about his thought process and his stability. He'd mostly blamed that on what happened years ago, like he was the weakest link and never recovered after Manhattan, but another piece seemed to think that everyone would second guess him even if he hadn't been controlled. It always rubbed him wrong, and to have someone- even if it was Loki- stand up for him made him roll his shoulders back and say, "I'll see you later, bud," to Thor.

Thor nodded but sent one more questioning glance over his shoulder before leaving and shutting the door behind him. Clint was looking at the door, couldn't quite look at Loki yet. Loki let him, sitting in the same position he'd been in since they walked in, and waiting for Clint to say something.

He knew that he had to say something; he knew that if he didn't say something soon, he'd just walk across the room and bury his face in Loki's neck. The pull was nearly enough to make him cry, so familiar and yet so at odds with everything he'd held in his mind about Loki since he was free of him. He stepped a few steps closer.

Clint cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I keep showing up without warning."

Loki was definitely smiling, Clint could hear it in his voice even if he couldn't quite look at him yet. "You are welcome where I am at any time. Though I suppose meditation isn't the most vulnerable act you could have caught me doing."

The air in Clint's chest evaporated. He coughed, caught off guard, and finally flicked his eyes to Loki. "Seriously. Do you have no shame?"

The god _was_ smiling, Clint knew it. It pulled him closer, nearly to where Loki was sitting. "I have nothing to be ashamed of, Agent Barton. You have seen every inch of me and heard every sound. There is nothing left for me to hide."

"No," Clint countered, walking towards the dark-haired man. "No, that isn't me. I don't know you- I don't _want_ to know you like that." It was a blatant lie, but he prayed Loki couldn't see it.

"Unfortunately," Loki added.

"What would your Clint think if he found you coming on to me?"

Loki raised a brow. "Do you really want to know?"

Clint cringed. "Nevermind. Your Clint is a freak."

"Deliciously so," Loki agreed, "but you did not come to admire my hawk."

The archer rolled his eyes. There was no arguing with Loki; he knew better. "I need to talk to you."

Loki stood slowly and brushed past Clint, eyes never leaving the archer's as their chests touched for the briefest moment, on his way to the bed. "I'd offer you a chair but they have not given me much in the way of furniture." Clint followed him to the bed and sat as far away as he could, just so he could breathe a little bit. "You very obviously do not feel comfortable being here. I'd love to know what is so vital that you would visit me again."

It needed to be said. He needed to just _say it_. "What happened earlier-"

"Should not have happened," Loki finished, surprising Clint.

Clint scrambled for something to say; he was expecting uncomfortable banter, if not a fight. "I...agree."

"You were in obvious need and I took advantage of your vulnerability. As your dom, I should have conversed with you previously and outside of a scene as to our parameters and-"

"Woah, woah, woah. The fuck?" Clint interrupted, eyebrows in his hairline. "First, I was not '_in need_'. Second, you're my what?"

That made Loki smile again, but not in the slick, mischievous way he usually did. His smile was soft and proud. "Your dom. Well, not _yours_, but my Clint's. He has allowed me to be the one he chooses to take care of him. I assumed you saw your Loki the same way." The god was bursting with pride, practically glowing.

Clint couldn't think past that word. _Dom_. That would make Clint his... "I'm not a sub," he resisted, the words physically making him stand up from the bed and stumble backward. "That's," he raked a hair through his hair, "way outside my wheelhouse. I've never even met a dom before." Another lie, though not as blatant.

"Professed or not, Agent Barton, you smell of sweet submission," Loki teased, his eyes growing darker with each word.

"That's ridiculous," Clint scoffed, voice going high and thready. "I am _not_ a sub." He felt pinned in place, standing there frozen and numb.

Loki stood as well but didn't advance on him. "I wonder, did you share the same experiences with your Loki as I did with my Clint during our time together in Manhattan?"

Ice.

Clint's veins ran cold and he felt the frigid prickle of hate at the back of his neck. "That depends, did you steal my mind and soul with one touch of your demented glow stick, and then use me to try and kill my best friend and successfully make me kill fellow agents only to further your own selfish plan to dominate our world?" He was breathing hard when he finished, chest heaving and fists pressed to his thigh.

The god looked appropriately chastised but pressed on. "Those are not the experiences I speak of." He stepped a little closer to Clint, still holding most of the room between them, but Clint felt the shrinking distance like a bolt of electricity. "I speak of the nights spent exploring who we are together. I speak of the first time you allowed me to put my hands on you, the night I removed the thrall. I speak of the way you begged-"

"Shut up!" Clint threw at him, face red with fury. "You have no right! What you did to me that week makes me want to rip my own skin off just to...get rid of it." He finished softly, brokenly, and collapsed to the floor to curl up, arms going around his knees. He pressed his forehead to his knees and breathed as deep as he could, trying to make his head stop spinning.

"Clint," Loki whispered, and it was so close it made the archer flinch. He raised his head and Loki was on his knees in front of him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Fuck you," Clint spat, too tired to put much force behind it.

Loki ignored it and moved to sit next to Clint. It made Clint's entire right side burn, whether it was with hate or something else, he couldn't discern. "I would be forever in your debt if you would do me the honor of telling me what happened between you and your Loki."

Clint shook his head, staring down into his arms. "I can't," he breathed, inhaling a shaky breath.

"Then I will simply sit with you, if that pleases you."

He was so lost, so confused. Clint didn't know what he wanted, but he was sure it wasn't to get up anytime soon; he wasn't even sure his legs would carry him, so he just let his forehead fall to his arms and said, "Okay."


	8. VIII

Clint sat there in a ball long enough for his ass to go numb. At some point, he'd stopped crying, but then he just felt like an idiot and didn't want to have to face Loki and the whole world looking at him with pity.

With a regretful sigh, he lifted his head. Loki was still sitting in the same place, still making Clint's side warm- though it was more a comfort now than it was when he first sat down. When Clint forced himself to turn and look at him, he was surprised to find Loki looking at him expectantly. There wasn't an ounce of pity in his eyes.

"I'm not going to say sorry again, but I feel like a dick," Clint started, voice hoarse from crying.

Loki's brow creased for a moment before he spoke. "You never have to apologize to me, Clint. Not ever." It was so sincere and yet sounded so easy coming out of Loki's mouth that Clint was starting to actually believe him when he said that he took care of his Clint in some far off, very different universe.

"Thanks," was all Clint could think to say, all that would really come out. He felt exhausted, truly exhausted, and realized how little he'd had to eat and how little sleep he'd gotten in the past two days. Like Loki could read his mind, he placed a cool hand on Clint's arm.

"You may lay down in my bed if you'd like." Clint was immediately shaking his head, but Loki continued. "I would not tell your friends. I only wish for your rest and health." He was wearing Clint down, and he could tell. "I won't pretend to know you, but if you are similar to my Clint, you enjoy the warmth of another body when you sleep."

He did enjoy the warmth of another body when he slept. Fuck.

"You can't tell anyone. Not Thor. No one," Clint warned, eyelids already falling heavy.

"Not a soul, I swear it."

Clint nodded and Loki helped him to stand and then placed him in the bed provided to the room, covering him with a warm blanket. He decidedly ignored the stroke Loki gave his cheek before going around the other side and sliding in behind him. For a moment, Clint tensed, but then Loki rubbed his arm in soothing strokes and the archer melted into the touch. Loki was close, but not quite touching, and it just wasn't quite enough.

Clint grabbed Loki's hand and pulled him closer, so their bodies were flush, and tucked Loki's arm around his waist. He refused to think about what would happen if someone were to come in, if one of his teammate- if Natasha- found them like that. He just wanted to sleep, and he felt it coming on already.

He didn't wake up for hours, and when he did, he was warm and comfortable. He sighed and pressed back into the alcove of peace that surrounded him, only to earn a delighted hum in return.

Clint froze. He was in bed with someone. He hadn't been in bed with someone since...He stopped right there and instead racked his brain for where he was and who was behind him before he opened his eyes. Just as he was piecing it together, he heard a soft, "You are safe."

He wanted to bolt, wanted to throw back the covers and jump up, but Loki was warm and he'd just slept better than he had in months, and maybe he didn't want to move dammit. The archer relaxed, spine pressing to Loki's firm chest. It was the signal Loki needed to holder him tighter and whisper, "Thank you."

Clint buried half his face in the pillow. "Don't thank me," he whispered back, afraid to break the quiet.

"I am grateful for your trust and would prefer to voice it," Loki. explained.

Clint regretfully shuffled under the blanket and Loki's arm, not dislodging it but separating them by a few inches, to turn over and look at the god. "See, yeah, I _don't_ trust you, that's the thing." Before Loki could offer some high brow words of wisdom, Clint rattled on. "The only reason I can even stand to be here right now is that I know you're not him."

Loki's green eyes went hard, and Clint fruitlessly thought that he should have an exit plan. But then the god clenched his jaw hard, chin practically vibrating, and said, "I must have done something unspeakable to you." The words were so filled with self-hatred that Clint felt dirty just being near them.

"You took everything from me," Clint accused, quiet but strong.

It was Loki that time that cast his eyes downward, looking at Clint's shoulder. "Did I not...fix it?"

Clint scoffed and pushed away from the god, throwing the blanket away and slipping out from under Loki's arm to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the wall. "How could you fix that?"

"I do not know what _that_ is," Loki complained, exasperated. The entire time he'd been here, Loki had been the picture of calm in front of Clint, but it felt good to see that façade crumble a bit.

"I'm sure your reality is similar enough to mine for you to guess," spat Clint.

There was shifting behind the archer as Loki had sat up. "Yet my Clint is the love of my life and I would go to war for his honor." Clint didn't want to hear it, couldn't take it. It wasn't fair. He stood up abruptly and walked towards the door. The bed creaked and then Loki's frantic, "Please, wait," stopped him. Clint didn't turn around.

Loki spoke again, "If our realities are similar indeed, then I can only imagine the heartache your Loki feels at the hatred you harbor towards him."

Clint barked a humorless laugh and spun around, metaphorical steam swirling off his head. "That monster feels _nothing_! He stole my mind," Clint tapped furiously at his temple, "and my will and then had the _gall_ to steal my heart!" He turned and swung a fist out, punching the wall and denting the plaster. "That monster used me and told me that he cared about me and then _left me_ there on that helicarrier to go back to my old life like nothing happened."

It was spilling now and he couldn't temper the flow. "He showed me things I'd never even dreamt of. He told me things I couldn't possibly understand. He made me question everything about myself, my life, and then ghosted me like a scared little boy." Clint sank to his knees, breathing hard and barely holding back tears. "That week with him was the best week of my life and I can't tell anyone."

He fell onto his hands, on all fours and staring at the floor. "I spent years without him, trying to forget what I learned about myself, trying to fix myself. Then, they told me he was dead and..." He collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck!" he screamed, muffled against his skin.

Then, Loki's hand was on his back, rubbing soothingly up and down his spine and Clint flinched away. He sat back on his haunches and rubbed away the wet evidence of the weight he'd been carrying for years. "I swear I never cry this much." Loki chuckled but didn't say anything. Clint wrung his hands together, glaring at them. "I guess that's not really how things went down for you and your Clint?"

"No, I am relieved to say it ended very differently," Loki confirmed.

"How?" Clint begged, swallowing down the desperation he heard in his voice.

Loki swirled his fingers and warmth slipped around Clint, relaxing his shoulders and making him slump back against the door. "I did take him but I did not leave him." The god got into the same position Clint had found him when he and Thor walked in on him, seeming to settle in for a story. "I saw into his mind and I was awed by him. He was the strongest, purest man I'd ever met. And he did not see 'a monster'," Loki emphasized the words for Clint, "when he looked at me." Clint dared a look over at the god, and Loki was looking right back at him, a small smile gracing his features. "I could hardly wait to be alone with him and remove my influence."

"Did you?"

"I did," Loki told him, smiling wider. "He did not run like I expected, like I almost wished he had." At Clint's look of confusion, Loki answered, "I knew I would ruin him and I thought it better if he left, but I was not brave enough to grant his leave so I hoped he would take the chance and run."

"What did he do?" Clint wondered, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Loki's eyes lit up. "He kissed me."

That, at least, was familiar. Clint remembered doing it. He inserted his point of view. "I'd seen into his head just like he saw into mine. I saw the way he thought about me. I'd never felt that from anyone before." He scoffed. "Not like I'm a hopeless loser who's never dated, but no one had ever accepted me so fully before," he urged, hand gripping at the air like it was tangible. "I didn't feel any judgment or assumption like I did from nearly everyone else in my life."

"Except Natasha," they both added and then their eyes went wide. If Clint didn't know any better, he'd say Loki was blushing.

"You have mentioned something like this before, and I know of your great respect for your friend," the god informed him. "Please, keep going."

With another encouraging nod from Loki, the archer did. "I kissed him," Clint admitted and bit down on his lip, worrying it between his teeth.

"What did I do?" Loki asked.

The memory made Clint lick his lips and he couldn't quite look Loki in the eye, as if the information would somehow make it back to his Loki. "You sighed like..." He bit his lip again, thinking. "Like you'd waited your whole life for it."

Loki hummed. "Yes, that I remember."

"Yeah?"

"Very clearly. We didn't speak that night, not a word, but-" He huffed a laugh. "I knew exactly what you needed."

"Even without the scepter," Clint supplemented. Loki nodded. "The way you- he touched me." The archer's lids got heavy. "Possessive and hungry."

"I was," Loki added. "The way you responded to my touch...No creature has ever given me that desire."

They were leaning towards each other without realizing, their shoulders brushing. Clint's voice was barely audible when he spoke. "You leaned over me and whispered in my ear-"

Loki growled. "Mine."

Clint nodded, hands rubbing down his thighs to wipe the sweat away. "I should've been so pissed, but I wasn't. In that moment, it was true- truer than the entire time you kept me in that goddamn haze, truer than anything I'd done since I joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Did I enact the scepter's power again afterward?"

This was were Clint got ashamed of himself every time he thought back over that week. "Not immediately," he confessed. The night together- the passionate, wild sex- he could write off as a mix between thinking with the wrong head and fear of what Loki would do to him if he refused- however untrue it might be- but after, when Loki offered him his freedom in exchange for his companionship, and Clint accepted- well, there's no excuse for that.

"You told me that you wanted me to stand beside you."

"And you agreed," Loki certified. "But you'd changed my mind on so many things that night."

"You said that you didn't want to go through with the invasion."

"I put you in danger by admitting such things to you."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You said that back then, too." He reached out and took Loki's hand. "The Other threatened you, but we had a plan."

Loki leaned over just the tiniest bit and kissed Clint's shoulder. "To sabotage the invasion and save your world."

"We were going to pull it off, too. I snuck in suggestions to Selvig to rig the thing so he could shut it down later. Then, I don't know...A few nights after that you changed. You went away like you did sometimes, eyes blank and everything, but this time when you came back, you were angrier than I'd ever seen you and cold like when I met you in the warehouse."

Loki was shaking his head. "That is not my reality. We did sabotage the invasion. You testified to my father on my behalf and saved my life. You convinced the Avengers to give me the chance I never gave them. You chose me."

"Then what happened?" Clint demanded, squeezing Loki's hand tight. "What went wrong? You'd kissed me that night like it was the last time, even though you made sure to spend the few days we had left together doing nothing but kissing me. That's when you started to show me everything. You were so powerful, it made my knees shake."

The god turned Clint's hand over and ran smooth, soft fingertips along the sensitive underside of his wrist. "Did I collar you? That is your favorite."

Clint's brows shot up, then he cringed internally at the instant intrigue he felt. He should be running when someone like Loki said things like that, but he didn't move. "What? No. Nothing like that, but he didn't need a collar. He held me down and made me beg him to let me come. I would sit at his feet sometimes while he planned and he'd...pet me.

He'd slide into bed with me and cover my body with his and that's when I found out I liked sleeping with someone's weight and warmth on me." Clint's eyes drooped closed; he could see it all like a movie in his head. "He gave me something I didn't even know I needed. I genuinely thought I could stay like that forever."

He opened his eyes again, a crease forming between his brows. "Stupid," he chastised. "Then he woke up one morning, said the plan had changed and touched me with that fucking stick. He didn't even kiss me one more time. I felt myself shrinking inside my head, screaming for him to take it back." Clint took a long deep breath and finished, "Then we attacked the helicarrier and he left me there to deal with everything by myself. He was shipped off to Asgard and I didn't even get to ask him _why_."

The archer let go of Loki's hand to rake it through his hair, sticking it up in crazy directions. "He left me here and I couldn't sleep; I couldn't get him out of my head." He groaned, frustrated. "I tried to get that feeling back, but I didn't even know what it was. I tried a few things with Natasha- she never asked why, but I think maybe she knew- but it wasn't the same."

"Because I am your dom, not Romanov," Loki growled like he couldn't help.

Clint warned, "Don't start that shit again. You already fucked me up enough as it is, I don't need to have any more weird flaws."

"Being a submissive is _not_ a flaw," commanded the god, leaving no room for argument.

"Right, well, that's not me, so it doesn't matter. I am many things, Loki, but a sub is not-"

There was a bang on the door, making Clint startle. Loki just sighed and said, "He does not like me."

Before Clint could ask who he meant, Tony's voice filtered through the door. "Hey, Clint. I know you're still in there because F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't see you leave. Thor made me promise not to come down here two hours ago, but now I'm slightly afraid you're dead. Not that you're not a primo fighter, pal, but he's Loki, you know, and the power dampeners in the room aren't enough to-"

"Shut up, Stark. I'm fine," Clint barked. "What do you want?"

Tony's voice was softer when he said, "It's dinner time and the team's waiting for you."

Clint turned his wrist over and looked at his watch. It was nearly seven p.m. "Oh, wow. Um.." He looked to Loki and then huffed, sorting his next words carefully. "You hungry?"

Loki looked surprised but pleased. "Very," he admitted.

"Okay, then, yeah. We're going to just go eat with the team. That's normal. It's fine," Clint rambled as he stood. Loki stood up as well and moved back so the archer could open the door.

"Loki's coming to dinner," Clint shot out before he could stop himself. When Tony's mouth immediately opened, Clint held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. This isn't the same Loki, and you've kept him in this room for two days. He's hungry. We're eating."

With that, Clint walked around Tony and out towards the elevator.


	9. IX

Awkward wasn't the word Clint was looking for.

The team was sat around the large dining table in the common area, sans Thor. Tony was at the head like some sort of regal supervisor of events. He never sat there, preferred to be between Steve and Bruce for reasons Clint smirked at, but tonight he was standing while Natasha and Bruce- the cooks of the team- lowered large plates of food onto the table, looking over proceedings with a sharp gaze.

Steve was sat directly across from Loki, elbows on the table and fingers steepled in front of his mouth. He seemed to be assessing Loki as well, though not as maliciously as Stark. He kept flicking his eyes back and forth between Clint and Loki. Natasha came to sit next to Clint on the opposite side as Loki, and Clint could've kissed her for how grateful he was. He thought for a minute it'd really be just him and Loki on their side of the table.

Bruce sat at Tony's right side, leaving the place Tony usual sat open between him and Steve and reached a hand up. "Tony, please," he insisted and tugged at him while he nodded to his regular seat. Tony narrowed his eyes at Loki, but with another tug from Bruce and a quiet, _Tony_, from Steve, he relented and came to sit in his usual spot. It wasn't lost on the table that Thor was absent and that Loki was sitting in Thor's usual spot.

Bizarre! That was the word Clint was looking for.

They passed out food in silence, and Loki- the bastard- filled his plate with an amiable ease that made Clint envious. They made it a whole ten minutes before Tony slapped his fork down onto his plate with a clatter and slammed a fist down on the table. "Why is he here?" Tony barked at Clint. Steve's hand immediately went to Tony's leg under the table, a warning and a comfort.

"I invited him," Clint spoke evenly, a challenge.

"Why? What did he do to you to make you forget what he did to you, to _me_."

Tony was right. Everyone focused so much on what Loki had done to Clint, but they always forgot that Tony rode a nuclear missile head into space and nearly died because of Loki, not to mention the damage to his tower and the threat Loki had placed on his friends and employees. In the dark times, the thought that Stark had it pretty bad, too, was the only reason Clint stayed sane.

"I haven't forgotten, Tony," Clint assured, "but this isn't that Loki." Loki had kept wisely quiet from the moment he stepped off the elevator with a nervous Clint and a fuming Tony, but then went and Clint pointed him out.

He locked eyes with Tony and tried to impress his regret. "I have committed my fair share of sins, Tony, but I am not the man to whom your vengeance belongs."

Tony tried to stand but Steve's strong grip sat him back down, and then Bruce's soft touch was rubbing his back. "You don't-" Tony wiped his mouth like the filth of the moment could be cleaned away with the simple gesture. "You don't get to talk to me."

"Maybe you should tell us how your Manhattan went down," Natasha suggested as she swirled a fork full of pasta, cool as ever. "I assume it's different because Clint mentioned you're an Avenger in your world."

Loki turned to her and Clint could see the clear look of relief on his face. "It is. The biggest difference is that Clint gave me an opportunity to change my loyalties." The god's eyes flicked to Clint for a heart-stopping moment of intimacy before turning back to the table. "We undermined the Chitauri plans, and the Avengers and I came together to stop the invasion before it started."

"Bullshit," Tony spat.

"Tony," Steve murmured, somehow hard as steel and soft enough to make Tony deflate in his seat like a petulant child.

"Has Clint told you what our Loki did instead?" Bruce asked.

Loki nodded and lowered his hands to his lap. "He has. It was difficult to hear that I would ever do something to betray Clint's trust and to hurt those that have become like family to me."

"Oh come on!" Tony stood and then Steve was standing, pulling Tony to him.

"Let take a walk, huh, Tony?" Steve suggested.

Tony waved a hand towards Loki's dark form. "You can't seriously be listening to this?"

Bruce stood then and covered the other half of Tony that Steve wasn't and put a hand to Tony's chest. "Why don't you and Steve go for a walk, Tony." It wasn't a question that time. Tony looked between the two men and huffed, defeated.

Tony scoffed, "Whatever," then let Steve wrap an arm around him and lead him away from the table.

Steve turned back and reached a hand out to Bruce. "Coming?"

"In a minute," he told the blond, and Steve nodded before taking Tony to the elevator. Once they were inside and out of sight, Bruce sat back down at the table and raked a hand through his hair. "You have to understand what he's been through."

Loki nodded. "I don't pretend to truly understand, but I can imagine and I hold nothing against him for his actions. I only wish it wasn't as it is. I count my Tony as a friend and my Steve as a brother." He smirked and looked at Bruce through his thick, black lashes. "Though I do not hold them as closely and my Bruce holds them in my universe. I see you have found the same comfort."

Bruce wasn't Tony and he wasn't Steve. He didn't rise to quips and gossip; he simply moved on. "Do you have a plan to get home?" he asked.

"Not as of yet. I was hoping to garner your expertise. Possibly Stephen Strange's if he is available, though he rarely is."

"Strange?" Clint asked.

Loki noted the confusion and supplied, "I suppose that is different as well."

"Who is Stephen Strange?" Bruce questioned.

"He is a powerful sorcerer of magic and became a close friend after I taught him the ways of Asgardian meditation. I suppose my Avengers would have already called on him to seek me out after I disappeared," Loki informed them.

Bruce tilted his head, considering. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

_"There are thirteen Stephen Strange's in the world, sir. A search is being conducted as we speak. I will let you know what I find."_

"Thanks."

Loki leaned his arms on the table and asked, "Where has my brother gone to?"

"He said something about finding you just after he came back from his visit with...you, and then flew off," Natasha told him. "He's a temperamental one."

"I always did find your intelligence to be keen," Loki complimented and sent her a wry smile.

She didn't smile back, only offered him a blank, unreadable face before rolling her eyes and sitting back in her chair. "What did he mean, he went to find you?" she asked. "_You_ you are right here, and his Loki is dead. What does he think he's going to find?"

"Oh, that's probably because Loki told him that he's not dead," Clint shared like he was asking for dessert, but his eyes were too wide, slightly manic. "I mean, this Loki told him that our Loki isn't dead," he clarified, hands waving while he explained. "I don't know."

"What?" Bruce demanded, finally showing something other than calm. "What do you mean you're not dead?"

"I mean simply that," Loki admitted. "I still feel the life force of my kindred soul and I can guarantee you that your Loki has not left this universe."

"Does Thor know where he is?" asked Bruce. "Where did he go, Loki?"

"That I do not know. Though if I were...me, I know where I'd go."

Clint raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? Where's that?"

The intense, colorful entity of the Bifrost deposited Thor back on familiar ground. He tumbled into the gold orb that served as the only entrance and exit to and from his home, the realm he'd been ignoring far longer than he had any right to. At the center of the raised platform stood a distracted man in armor that was many sizes too big for his frame.

"Who are you? Where's Heimdall?" Thor barked, though after he said it, he realized it wasn't of priority. "Nevermind." He walked around the platform and swirled his hammer.

"Whoa, there. Hold on a moment," the guy urged, making Thor pause just before he took off. "Who are you?"

Thor scoffed. The man must be of common birth to not have seen his face and of little intelligence not to recognize him merely by reputation. "I am Thor Odinson, the rightful heir of Asgard. I need to speak to my father immediately."

The man's face went bright red when he realized his mistake. "Of course, your highness. I just need to announce your arrival."

"No need," Thor countered and swung his hammer again.

"No, wait, I am supposed to-" But Thor was already a distant swish in the wind. "Dammit," he cursed and clunked after him.

Thor landed in the main courtyard of the castle he was born and raised in. Nothing had changed in the foundation, yet everything seemed different. The decor was different, louder, brighter- garish. He walked through a crowd of people, confused as to the occasion. Most recognized him, but the anger burning his features must have scared them off because they parted to allow him passage instead of greeting him.

He made his way to the front of the crowd and stopped still at the sight. Asgardian performers had taken the stage and were playing out some offensive version of Thor's loss, of Loki's death. His rage only boiled hotter, competing with his confusion as he pushed past the few attendants surrounding the royal seat to come face to face with his father.

No, not his father. That Thor ascertained pretty quickly. He had never in his many years ever seen his father _lounge_. "Father," he greeted. When Odin met his gaze, he startled.

"My son, Thor, has returned! Greetings, my boy!"

That son of a bitch.

Thor sauntered over to where "his father" was standing and raised a brow. "How have you been?"

"Oh, good, good..." he answered, his hands fidgeting in front of him. "And yourself?"

Thor tilted his head, thinking. "Busy. Always learning new things."

"Right, yes. So...it's back to Midgard for you, is it?"

Thor tossed his hammer up and watched it spiral back into his hand. "Nope. I met a new friend recently. Thin, black hair, kinda slimy." Odin's face started to take on a concerned look. Thor reveled in it. "He reminds me of someone I know, though his wisdom extends far beyond the one I grew up with." Odin toyed with his fingers. Thor's chest puffed out. "My new friend told me something."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Thor threw his hammer out in front of him a few yards and called it back. "He informed me that while I was grieving the loss of my brother and fighting for the integrity of Asgard, it turns out that my brother is not dead."

The facade of Odin's face crinkled in surprise. "That is _news_! Thor, that is grand news."

"It is, isn't it?"

Odin scratched his stomach idly. "Indeed."

Thor leveled him with a look. "You are really going to make me do it?"

"Do what?" Odin asked.

Thor sighed and threw his hammer out into the distant Asgardian landscape and stepped behind Odin's figure. He placed two thick hands on his father's shoulders, and reminded, "You know that nothing will stop Mjolnir as it returns to my hand." He shoved a hand to the back of Odin's neck. "Not even your face."

The fear radiating off the older man was palpable. "You've gone quite mad. You will be executed for this."

He was holding to character remarkably well, Thor gave him that. "Then I will see you on the other side." He leaned in and whispered, just for them, "Brother."

The hammer was making a tremendous return, barreling through the air towards Odin's face. It came within feet and Loki shimmered back into his true form and yelled, "Alright, I yield!" Thor quickly pushed him away and caught the hammer in his hand smoothly. The whole of the gathered crowd gasped.

Loki turned to Thor, smiled and huffed a laugh like they were sharing a joke. Just then, the man who disgraced Heimdall's post came ripping through the crowd. "Behold! Thor," he heaved a breath, "Odinson."

"No," Loki interrupted and turned to the man, holding up a finger to scold him. "You had one job, just the one."

"Why Loki?"

His brother turned back to him, angry. "You just couldn't stay away, could you? Everything was fine. Asgard was prospering. You've ruined everything. Ask them," he motioned to the crowd.

Thor growled, pissed, and advanced on his brother, making Loki stumbled backward. "You had me think you dead!"

Loki fell onto the royal seat and put his hands up in surrender. "You had what you wanted. You had the independence you asked for."

"I grieved you," he seethed and pressed his hammer to Loki's chest, making the dark-haired god squeak out an _ow_.

"Okay. I know I have hurt you."

Thor shook his head, disbelieving. "Why?"

Loki motioned to the hammer and Thor lifted it from where it was holding Loki in place. The god of mischief sighed. "Can we have this discussion somewhere a bit more private?" he asked, making Thor look around at his people. He nodded and swung his hammer, taking off before Loki could say a word.

Loki opened his arms wide to address the crowd, "There is much to be discussed with Prince Thor. If you'll excuse me." He disappeared from them and reappeared in his old room in the palace. Even if Thor didn't say where he was going, Loki knew. It was where every row they'd ever had was settled.

Thor was always the one to break and come to his room to talk, they'd hash it out and then sit on Loki's bed drinking mead into the daylight hours. This was no different, Loki realized when he reappeared on his balcony and saw Thor sitting at the end of his bed with his head in his hands, hammer sitting on the floor next to him.

"Thor?" Loki tried.

The blond lifted his head and there were tears tracking down his cheeks. "Now will you answer me?"

Loki's brows furrowed. "To what end?"

Thor rose, fire in his veins but when he approached Loki, he cupped both cheeks tightly in his hands. "Why?" he begged.

Loki swatted his hands away and brushed his hair back from his face. "You are better off without me."

"You know that's not true, Loki. I will never fair better at the demise of my brother."

"Tell that to your new best friends!" Loki shouted but quickly caught himself and tugged at the lapels of his shirt.

Thor squinted at him, assessing, and then his mouth fell open. "Are you jealous of the Avengers?"

Loki scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do not be ridiculous. I care nothing of those feeble humans."

"You are," Thor beamed but then his face turned dark. "You falsified your death and let me grieve for years because of _jealousy_?"

"It was not jealousy, Thor. I had many reasons," Loki insisted. "You desired freedom and I desired a home. We both got what we wanted."

The god of thunder tugged Loki into a bear hug. "Loki," he sighed against his hair, "I am your home and the news that you live is my freedom."

Thor swore he heard Loki gasp, but it was buried in his neck and he couldn't be sure. Loki patted Thor on the back awkwardly and taunted, "You were always so emotional."


	10. X

Clint's room was just barely beginning to be colored with the unmistakable white-yellow of the sun as it reached a higher place in the mid-morning sky. He'd slept okay, mostly because he could still feel the phantom weight of Loki's arm around his waist, but he'd been awake since around six a.m. and he'd spent the few hours since then just starring and thinking. He hadn't decided a single thing.

Thor had been gone for over twelve hours and they probably shouldn't expect him back for a while. Time was so different on Asgard and this wouldn't be the first time he'd promised to only be gone for a little bit and then be gone for months. In the meantime, Clint wanted to take the opportunity to confront Loki and get him out of his system. He just didn't know how.

During their "walk", Steve had convinced Tony to give Loki a room in the tower while they figure out what to do about him. He was only two floors from Clint, just far enough to way to make the archer itch to see him. After their confession session in the med bay yesterday, he was confused and lost in his thoughts.

_"Sir?"_

Clint groaned but didn't stop staring aimlessly at the ceiling above his bed to answer, "Yeah, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

_"Mr. Stark has authorized the repairwoman to replace your door. She is on her way up."_

"Boy am I glad he doesn't need my permission to let people into my apartment," he quipped but then huffed. "Yeah, whatever. Send her in."

A few minutes later he heard a polite, "Mr. Barton?"

"Yeah, don't mind me."

She didn't and started setting up her tools as she leaned the new door against the wall. Clint pushed himself up on his pillows just enough to watch her work. She disappeared from view and came back with other wooden pieces, the frame he assumed. She looked so content, working a job that she was good at. Simple, quiet, one step after another until the job was done.

"What's your name?" Clint asked, breaking the silence.

She didn't look up from her work when she said, "Jenny."

Clint pursed his lips in thought and shuffled to get more comfortable on his bed, letting the silence sit between them while he put his thoughts in order. "So, Jenny..."

When he didn't expound on those two words, Jenny turned to look at him and asked, "Something on your mind?"

He huffed and scooted to the end of the bed to slump his elbows onto his knees. "Do you know anything about BDSM?"

That pulled a surprised laughed from the repairwoman. "I know a bit," she admitted as she went back to knocking the door frame into place. She waved her hammer towards him, "Is your dom ticking you off?"

Clint's eyebrows shot up. "What makes you think I have a dom? What makes you think I'm not a dom?"

Jenny pulled her lip between her teeth, narrowing her eyes before she said cautiously, "I didn't mean to assume. You just scream sub to me, and when you asked I thought you were having some relationship troubles." She started on the door hinges. "My baby girl always gets that tone in her voice when I've done something she's not happy about."

He sat up, more alert, and questioned, "You're a dom?"

She raised a brow of her own and shot back, "You bet. Proud caretaker of one sassy baby girl."

Clint threw his hands into the air. "Is everyone in on this thing?"

"What thing?" she asked.

The archer stood and came over to stand by Jenny, leaning against the wall. "This dom/sub thing." He picked at a hangnail and refused to look at her. "I sort of thought it was, you know..."

"I don't," she pushed while she screwed in the last hinge.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Depraved, disgusting, weak. All the things people say!"

Jenny caught his eye and held it. "You've been hanging out with the wrong people."

"Yeah, well," he rubbed at his eye and scratched his five o'clock shadow, fidgeting, "it's mostly me that says that."

She hummed, understanding, and crossed her arms across her chest, screwdriver hanging from one hand. "New to the community?" she wondered.

"I'm not in the community," he answered. "I'm not even...I don't know what I am."

"Got it," she realized. "Hey, if you want I can ask Charlotte- my partner- to answer some questions. You know, from a sub's point of view. Maybe she can clear things up for you."

Clint watched her, looking for any signs of pity or judgment, but Jenny was waiting expectantly, open and honest. "Yeah," he told her before he could overthink it. "I'd like that. Thanks, Jenny."

"Of course. We've got to support each other. That's the beauty of the community."

He felt a little lighter, a little hopeful, at having a source to help him figure this out that wasn't Loki, that didn't make him want to bend over and present like he was a backwoods, feral cat. He needed a clear head to begin to understand the things he was feeling. He needed help.

God, he hated admitting that- even in his head.

He must have been staring because Jenny waved a hand in his face and said, "Mr. Barton?"

"Yeah, sorry? And, please, call me Clint."

Jenny nodded. "Clint, then. When would you like her to stop by?"

"Oh, uh," he looked at his watch. It was still early. "Is she free sometime today?"

The repairwoman chuckled but nodded. "I think so. Let me double-check she's at home, though?" She pulled out her phone and started typing.

"Yeah, sure, sure," he allowed, realizing that he must seem pushy. He backed up a couple of steps and said, "I'll just let you finish up." He had just turned back to his bed when he remembered. "Oh, by the way. I hope you're up for another job."

She eyed him. "What else did you break?"

"Firstly," Clint held a finger and cocked a hip, "I didn't break my own door down. That was Tony- or Steve, I'm not sure. Second-" He held up his other finger but then winced. "I sort of cracked the tile in my shower when I punched it yesterday."

"Punched it, huh?" she questioned.

He raked a hand through his hair and diverted his eyes around the room. "I've been tense."

"I noticed," she agreed. "Does that have anything to do with the person who _is not_ your dom?"

Clint laughed, aware of how obvious he was. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she repeated, knowingly. Jenny's phone dinged and she checked it. "Looks like she's printing off some stuff for the business, but she can swing by in about an hour."

When Jenny looked to him for confirmation, Clint nodded quickly. "That sounds great. Yeah, good." He clapped his hands awkwardly, walking over to his dresser to change out of his boxers and last night's t-shirt. "Okay, then," he said as he faced the drawers. "It's a date." He opened the drawers and started shuffling things around, unseeing and uncaring. "Just a totally normal everyday meeting." He wiped away the sweat that suddenly prickled at his hairline. "About being submissive." He swallowed. "Not a big deal."

"It's really not." Jenny's voice made Clint jump, and it said something about his mental state that he didn't hear her approach. If she were Natasha, he'd have a knife to his throat right now.

The archer turned and nodded, unsure. "It feels like it is."

Jenny shrugged then. "Well, maybe it is, but not how you're thinking." She placed a comforting hand on Clint's arm and he instinctively leaned into it. "It doesn't change who you are. People don't become subs overnight. Generally, it's something that's always been in there, and now you've found a way to express it."

"You make it sound like I'm coming out of the closet- which," he rolled his eyes, "is a completely different breakdown that I'd prefer not to relive."

She laughed and nodded. "That I get, but can I say something?"

"I think we've established an open dialogue by now, Jenny," Clint observed, making Jenny smile.

"It's not about the person's gender. It really doesn't have anything to do with who they are outside of a scene at all." She threw the hand on his shoulder into the air. "Hell, you don't even have to like your dom," she pointed at him, "but you do have to trust them. At least with this."

"I don't even have to like them..." Clint murmured, thinking.

"I mean, it's way better if you do, but if they give you what you need and take care of you, then who cares what happens outside of that, right?"

Clint sighed. "Right, I guess."

Jenny thumbed behind her. "I'm going to finish your door and then I've got to pick up some supplies for another job."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

She went back to the open threshold but added. "I'll put in a work order for your shower and I should be able to come fix it pretty soon. That Tony Stark doesn't like to wait."

"No, he does not. Thanks, Jenny."

She offered him a soft smile. "Anytime," she offered, and he knew it was for more than a repair job. 

_"Mr. Barton, Charlotte is here. Shall I send her up?" _F.R.I.D.A.Y. was really getting her workout today. Clint never had visitors, and he'd had two so far today.

He was in the kitchen, fully dressed- not in sweats- and his hair was combed back into a tame quiff. He didn't really know how to cook, but his mom always told him that if someone was doing him a favor, he should make them as comfortable as possible while they did it. So, he'd cut up some fruit and made a salad that he thought looked genuinely good.

"Yeah, thanks, FRIDAY." He sliced the last of the kiwi and dropped it in the bowl, using the wooden fork and spoon to mix up the sweet-smelling delicacies. He dropped his knife into the sink and grabbed two bowls and two forks, rushing to set them at his kitchen island. Just as he placed the large bowl of fruit down, the elevator dinged and he heard faint footsteps around the corner.

He walked towards the entryway to greet his guest and was surprised by what he saw. Charlotte was short, barely to Clint's shoulder, and he wondered how the height difference between her and the very tall Jenny played out in the bedroom. Beyond that, Charlotte was dressed in a professional, well-fitting knee-length dress that smoothed down her thighs and nipped in around her knees. Her heels were high and sleek, which made her all that much shorter out of them.

This woman didn't look deviant, disgusting, or weak. She was hot. All chocolate skin and bright teeth. Clint raised two very interested eyebrows. "Charlotte?" he wondered.

She held out a hand, enthusiastic and confident. "That's me. Clint, right?"

He took the hand and received a strong shake. "Wow," he muttered stupidly as he let his eyes slide down and back up the petite woman.

Charlotte pointed two fingers at him and flicked them up towards the ceiling. "Eyes up here, bud."

Clint felt his cheeks go pink and he yanked his hand away. "I'm so sorry. I just wasn't expecting..."

"A put-together, confident woman? Yeah, most men don't."

The archer waved his hands urgently. "No, no, that's not what I-"

"I'm teasing you, babe. Relax." She lifted her sleek bag from her shoulder and hung it up by Clint's jacket in the hall. "Can we sit somewhere?"

"Of course, yeah." Clint hopped to and led her into the kitchen. "I made us a snack in case you're hungry."

"I am actually. Thanks so much." She pulled herself up onto the tall stool and then kicked her heels off so they landed underneath her. "Yum, fruit." Clint was still standing behind her, wide-eyed and taken aback. Charlotte turned back and nodded her head at the other stool. "Don't make me eat by myself."

Clint scrambled to his stool and dished his own bunch of fruit into his bowl. Charlotte crossed one delicate leg over the other and slanted to face him in her chair, spearing a slice of strawberry and popping it between her bright pink lips. "You look stressed, Clint."

He was stressed. Jesus, this was already the most nerve-wracking thing he'd ever done- and he'd infiltrated the Chinese underground nuclear labs a few years back. Now, not only did he have to admit his shortcomings to someone, but he had to do it while fighting back the urge to lick Charlotte's dark, strong arms and prominent collarbones.

"I am," he admitted. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," Charlotte permitted.

"You are stunning."

"That's not honesty, Clint, that's flattery. Jenny did tell you I'm taken, right?"

Clint nodded, rushing to explain. "Yeah, of course. No, I mean- you are breathtaking."

"You mentioned. That's not what you really want to say, though, is it?"

He pushed his bowl away to set his arm on the counter and lean forward. "How do you do it?"

"What exactly?" she asked.

"Keep it together," he urged. "How do you look so confident and calm? How are you not freaking out?"

Charlotte's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why would I be, Clint?"

He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something, closing it again, then trying one more time. "I can't do anything. I can't think, I can't fucking breath." He mimed throttling himself. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

She hummed and nodded, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. "Have you allowed yourself to be taken care of recently?"

Clint licked his lips. "What do you mean?"

The woman looked at him expectantly. "I mean, when was the last time you played? Went under?"

Clint shook his head slowly. "I'm lost."

"How new are you to the community?" Charlotte wondered.

"I'm not part of this community thing? I don't know what it is."

Charlotte nodded once. "Right. Can we get a little more comfortable?"

Clint's mouth dropped open. "Yeah- yeah, sure." He stood up abruptly and moved to take his shirt off.

"Woah there, kiddo," Charlotte halted him and lowered his arms and shirt back down. "I meant maybe a seat on the couch so we can talk?"

The archer squeezed his eyes shut tight and wished the ground would just swallow him up. "I knew that." He rubbed his arm nervously. "I swear, I'm not usually this dumb. I'm just really nervous."

Charlotte touched his arm, making him open his eyes. She was close, looking up at him with a smirk. "You're cute, Clint Barton. I might have to talk to Jenny about you." With that, she walked around him and into the open living room. He had no idea what that meant, but it sounded promising.


	11. XI

Clint has decided he was what was commonly referred to as a submissive. Who knew? The label felt itchy on his skin and rattled eerily in his bones. If Clint was a sub then he needed a dom, right? That was what Charlotte had said, and the internet- and he didn't know dom/sub was just the tip of the iceberg. Did you know people could go into something called "littlespace"? There were masters and pets and all sorts of people out there, and that was the only thing that made Clint feel like the normal one of the bunch.

So...he needed a dom.

He sure wasn't ready to admit that to anyone on the team, and sure _as hell_ wasn't ready to admit that to Loki, which meant that he'd have to look to outside sources to figure himself out. Charlotte and Jenny had offered and he figured it was as good a place as any to start.

The archer rang the doorbell and rocked nervously on his heels, not sure what to do with his hands. He didn't have long to stew on it though because Charlotte's eager face greeted him a few seconds later. "Clint! You came."

"Not yet he hasn't," Jenny teased as she approached the door behind her sub. "Good to see you, Clint."

"Thank you guys for doing this for me," he greeted.

"Really, it's our pleasure," Jenny assured and opened the door wider to usher him in. "Char's been wanting a new playmate for a while and I like you."

How did she get away with saying things like that so bluntly? Clint cleared his throat and nodded as he entered the condo. "So...how do we do this thing?"

Jenny placed a sure hand to the small of Charlotte's back and nodded for them all to go into the living room. "First, we sit down and talk about it. Then, we can play, but only if you want to."

"Just like that?" Clint questioned.

Charlotte looked back over her shoulder with playful eyes and a smirk. "Just like that."

They all took seats on the couch, Jenny taking the armchair and Charlotte cuddling up to Clint on the loveseat. Jenny crossed an ankle over her knee and sat back, comfortable as anything, and assessed the duo. "Here are the ground rules," she started and held up a finger. "One, neither of us are having sex with you. That's not what you're here for."

Clint tried not to show his surprise at her forwardness and nodded.

"Two, I'll tell you everything I'm going to do before I do it since I don't know your limits and I don't think you do either."

She was right, of course. Clint nodded again.

"Three." Her face went soft and she smiled a little. "I'll take care of you both. Any questions so far?"

Just one pressing one. "You said no sex- which is cool," he emphasized, "but usually when I've done this I..."

"Get hard? Come?" Jenny finished for him with a raised brow. Clint's mouth snapped shut but he forced himself to nod. "I expect you'll come tonight, and I encourage it. Finding release and sex are two different things in my book."

"Good to know..." Clint responded, dazed. Charlotte seemed pleased, though, because she looped an arm through Clint's and kissed his shoulder.

"This is going to be fun," she murmured.

"Clint?" Jenny called to get his attention, which was wandering dangerously now that the reality of what was about to happen was dancing in his mind, but he blinked hard and locked eyes with the domme. "Is there anything specific you'd like to try tonight?"

He'd only had one thing stocked away that he'd prayed they'd get to do tonight. "I'd like to..." God, this was way harder now that he had to say it out loud. Maybe that was part of the game, making subs squirm by having to say what they wanted. It seemed like something Loki would enjoy.

"Clint?" Jenny prompted again and Clint focused as best he could.

"Can I kneel by your feet for a while?"

There. He'd said it. _Wow, _that was hard. It'd been his absolute favorite thing he and his Loki had done during their week together. It was the opposite of the forceful, violent god that'd he'd known and yet he'd felt utterly owned. Sometimes Loki would stroke his hair, sometimes his neck- Clint came very close to admitting how much he missed Loki. Even to himself that was a bad idea.

Jenny smiled, sweet and proud. "I think that's a great idea," she offered and Clint relaxed. She stood and walked over to the couch the two subs were sitting on, holding out a hand to each of them. They both took it, Charlotte with enthusiasm and Clint with trepidation, and Jenny led them down a hall and to a door. She turned and addressed Clint seriously, "This is our playroom. Every single thing in here is meant to help you, not harm you," she smirked at that, and Clint couldn't help but echo it. "If anything draws your eye or your interest, let me know. Some things will be off limits for tonight, but we can talk about anything."

Clint just wanted to see _inside_ already. "Yeah, okay," he urged, bouncing on his heels a little. Jenny just huffed a laugh and opened the door, ushering them in. Clint's mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. The room was bigger than he'd thought it would be and painted dark blue. The walls were...well, he'd say decorated because of the artistic way everything was hung if they weren't sex toys. There were a ton of them, everything Clint had researched and a bunch that he didn't recognize. Not to mention drawers of things he couldn't see.

There was a bed- simple and neat- but throughout the room were other surfaces that looked much less comfortable. Something like a multi-teared bench, something rounded and long, a giant X of sanded cherry wood. He shook his head in disbelief, turning slowly to take it all in. When he caught Jenny and Charlotte in his peripherals, he turned to them. "Wow," he offered in summation. It seemed to be his word of the night.

"I know right?" Charlotte boasted, smile wide. "A lot of it is centered around a female sub, but there are a few things that would be just for you and most of it works for both."

Jenny walked to him slowly, so gentle that he wondered how she came to be someone that hurt people for gratification. "How are you doing, Clint?"

Honestly? He was fucking excited. His blood was pumping, his dick was half hard- though he was earnestly trying to ignore it for now- and his mind was melting away, along with his worries. He smiled easily. "Good."

"Good," Jenny repeated, happy to hear it. "Is there anything you liked?"

Clint raised a sarcastic brow but turned to look around one more time anyway. "What's in there?" he asked and pointed to a sleek, black set of drawers. Jenny hummed and placed a hand on the curve of Clint's back to lead him over to it. It was a gesture, he knew, testing his pliancy. He liked it, it felt vaguely familiar, but it wasn't exactly right.

She pulled open the top drawer and two rows of dildos in different colors, shapes, and sizes lit up his view. "I should've known," Clint mumbled and Jenny opened the next drawer. It was more dildos but most of them had switches or buttons and Clint assumed they were vibrators. The next was apparently the drawer of CBT, which Clint did...plenty of research about that he didn't feel like explaining to Jenny and Charlotte. There were cages and presses and clamps and things that made sweat prickle at the base of his neck.

"Okay," he gasped, voice cracking over the single word. "I got it."

Apparently, that was funny to Jenny, who closed the drawer with a chuckle and asked him. "So, anything?"

Um, _everything_, he wanted to shout but figured that would look desperate and he was still new and maybe he just thought he wanted everything but really he didn't. "Yeah, a few good things," he tried for suave and missed the mark terribly if Charlotte's dark eyes were any indication.

"Great," Jenny noted. "Like what?"

Clint took in the wall of floggers, whips, crops, paddles, and more. "I could be spanked, I think." _I think?_ He was a world-class assassin who _knew _he wanted to be spanked, but for some reason, he sounded like a nervous schoolboy asking out his first crush.

"A solid choice," Charlotte agreed, giving Clint a bit of confidence.

"Also, the cages in there. The metal ones look cool." They didn't just look cool. He knew what they were for and he knew that he'd spent two hours watching people using them online.

"Somehow I'm not at all surprised, Clint Barton," Jenny revealed with a sparkle in her eyes. "Good choices. I think they're perfect for trying out some things. Char?"

Charlotte came scurrying up to her domme, hands clasped behind her back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Take your clothes off. Leave your underwear on," she ordered and Charlotte didn't hesitate to start untying her sweats. Jenny focused on Clint next. "After she's done, she's going to undress you, okay?" Clint nodded. "I'm going to need you to use words for now."

"Yes, okay."

Jenny went to the wall of instruments meant to mark up someone's skin while she kept talking. "We have safewords. You chose 'trickshot' as yours when you and Charlotte talked. Mine is 'corkscrew' and hers is 'panda'." She grabbed a long, narrow paddle off its hook and tested the weight in her hand. "We use the stoplight system and a scale of one to ten depending on what information I need from you. Are you familiar?"

"Yes, ma'am," he told her, loving the feel of the words on his tongue.

Jenny turned back to them and nodded, obviously impressed. Charlotte was down to just her panties, soft, luscious breasts swaying gently as she fell to her knees in front of Clint to undo his jeans. He wasn't going to make it out of this alive. He was going to die. He was _going_ to _die._ And God help him, he didn't even care.

She pushed his jeans off his legs to the floor and he stepped out of them. Jenny walked around to his back an ran a hand up the clothed line of his spine, sending shivers through him. "When you're undressed, I want you to come lay over my lap on the bed."

He could see himself in his head, ass up, face pressed into the bed and it was shameful and erotic and he nodded eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy," she murmured and kissed the back of his neck, a light, flirty kiss. She left him then, going to sit on the bed while Charlotte stood and pulled his shirt up his body. He was down to just his boxers and feeling incredibly vulnerable. The sub took his hand and brought him over to the bed, letting her hands run down his sides before falling away.

Clint swallowed nervously, biting at his lip. Jenny held a hand out and Clint took it. "No one will judge you here," she promised. "Plus, I'm really excited to try you out, and I think you're going to like it." At her wide grin, Clint felt his muscles relax and the air he'd been holding streamed out through his nose.

He climbed onto the bed, laying over her lap and pillowing his head on his forearms. "Like this?"

She pulled him a little higher up her lap and spread his legs as far as she could. "There we go. Charlotte, honey, grab the Cowgirl and bring it over here." Clint heard a low, happy _yes _and then the coffee-toned woman was running over to the only other door in the room- a closet apparently. She came back hefting a black leather mound and set it down right in front of them on the floor.

Clint wanted to determine what the thing was but Jenny was massaging his thighs and ass and it felt so good his eyes were falling closed. Her authoritative voice broke through his fog a moment later. "I don't want you touching yourself while Clint has a bit of fun. Go grab whatever bondage you want, baby." Clint tried harder to pay attention to what they were doing because it sounded like something he'd want to see. He tracked Charlotte as she nearly skipped over to the cuffs and rope hanging on the wall.

She picked up a simple strip of fabric that flowed in the air as she came back to the bed. She held it out to Jenny and asked, "Tie me up, ma'am?" Now Clint was sure he wanted to see that. He lifted his head up to watch as Charlotte turned around and let her domme tie her forearms together against the middle of her back. She groaned when Jenny pulled the knot tight which had Clint rolling his hips without meaning to.

Jenny noticed, of course she did, and smoothed a possessive hand up his back to his hair, tugging it back and telling him, "You can watch all you want- Char loves to show off- but I want you still. Each time you try to hump my leg, I add another spanking. Understand?" She gave another tug to his hair and Clint's eyes fluttered shut.

He nodded, just to feel that small surge of pain in his scalp again and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Very good," she praised. To Charlotte, "Hand me the remote and sit on it, baby." It was a hard task, one meant to make her sub blush with frustration and embarrassment, and Clint couldn't stop watching her. She finally managed to pick the remote up behind her back and walk it backwards to Jenny, who took it and stroked down her thigh in reward. Charlotte scrambled to sit on top of the toy with an attachment that just looked like a small bump and a long thick raised line.

He watched in amazement as the sounds of vibration took up the silence and Charlotte's face scrunched up, a smile spreading lazily across her face. She wiggled more, sitting down harder and moaned. "Don't lift up," Jenny commanded. "I want to see how many times you come before I'm done."

Clint growled, hips shifting in search of relief. "That's one more," Jenny informed him, halfway between displeased and entirely too pleased. The assassin huffed at his own mistake and tried his hardest to be still.

Jenny's hand squeezed Clint's round cheek as she grabbed the small paddle from beside her on the bed. Then the ridged leather was against his skin, making him tense before she shh'd him gently and rubbed it around on his skin. "I'm going to spank you now," she warned and in the next moment, the paddle was gone. Clint didn't even have time to nod his recognition before it came down on his ass in a sharp wack, the crack ringing out in the air.

"Oh, fuck," he cursed, couldn't help it, and ground his pelvis into Jenny's thigh.

"One more," she counted like she expected it- she probably did. Clint, however, did _not_. The rush that was stinging up his spine and into his arms was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He had to clench his whole body to keep from rolling his hips again. "Ready?" Jenny asked and it took a long few seconds for Clint to nod.

The next was just as hard as the first but on his other cheek. Clint gritted his teeth together and put every ounce of willpower he had into keeping his body still. _God_, he just wanted to take the surge of energy that came with the pain and turn it into pleasure so badly. He was losing it. He was happier than he'd been in his entire life- minus that week he refused to count. He couldn't believe he'd finally found a place to understand all the things that never made sense to him. He was riding a wave of foggy pleasure and he never wanted to come down.


	12. XII

Clint did come from the spankings. Well, that and the sound Charlotte made on her fourth orgasm. He was exhausted somehow. He could stay up for a few days straight with only a single bottle of water and no food if he was on a mission, but a few handfuls of spankings and Jenny murmuring sweet nothings in his ear took it right out of him.

He was curled up between the two women when he woke up in the middle of the night. His bones were jello and he didn't feel like moving to save his life. Jenny was pressed against his back, arm slung greedily across his waist with her hand resting against Charlotte's bare breast. Charlotte was on her back with Clint's leg slotted between hers. It was too surreal to comprehend at the moment, but Clint knew that when he got home he'd hold this moment in his memory as one of the greatest moments of his life.

The only thing that made him even slightly uncomfortable was the cool metal rings that lined his swollen cock. He lifted the covers from where they were slouched around his hips and eyed his caged cock. It was half hard but unable to get any further with the constriction. The metal was warm now but cool when Jenny had slipped it on and he'd swollen inside it within a minute.

For at least an hour, his pink flesh pressed painfully against it and made him dizzy. Finally, they settled into bed and Clint willed himself down to half hard, where he'd been for hours. He felt utterly owned and it made his vision go fuzzy.

He plopped his head back down on the pillow and smiled. He'd totally found it. Everything that he needed and didn't understand he could have. He would've done anything to freeze that moment and keep it forever.

A buzzing on the nightstand drew his attention. His phone lit up the dark room with a few missed calls and a new text from Natasha. He leaned as lightly as he could over Charlotte to read it.

_Need you at the compound. Now._

It was urgent but not life or death. He groaned and slumped his head to Charlotte's shoulder, stirring her with a confused sound. "Clint?" she inquired sleepily.

The archer rubbed her arm in apology. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Now?" She was pouting and Clint was so close to burying his face in her neck and saying never mind, but Natasha didn't play games and if he was needed then he had to go.

"I'm so sorry," he urged and kissed her soft nipple. "It's work, I think."

Jenny was starting to rouse behind him and leaned up to press her cheek to Clint's back. "W'as hap'nin?"

Clint rolled onto his back and looked up at the woman that had made everything so clear. He was enamored and bewitched. "I have to go," he repeated.

The domme's eyes cleared a bit at that and she looked down at him. "Is everything okay?"

Clint nodded quickly. "Yeah, everything's fine. I got called back to the compound."

"Oh," she allowed, understanding. "Okay, well, let's..." She reached under the blanket and brushed Clint's sensitive cock, making him gasp. "I'll take it off for you."

A jolt of pleasure surged up his spine as she curled her fingers around him, but it was followed quickly by an itch of pain when the rings constricted him. "Actually," Clint stammered and placed a hand over Jenny's to pause her, "can I keep it? Just for a little bit."

Charlotte hummed, lazy and happy, and smoothed a hand up Clint's cheek. "Let him wear it a while, Jen. He likes it."

Jenny eyed him, always assessing, and pulled the cover down to get a good look at Clint's caged dick. The archer squirmed at the attention, unsure but so turned on, and could feel his shaft push against the rings harder, making him moan. Jenny ran sure fingers over him, pressing against the rings and then his flushed skin, tilting him this way and that before letting him bob in the air. "Okay, you look okay still. I want to get a bit of lube on it though. You can wear it for the rest of the day, but then I want it off. Got me?"

Clint nodded eagerly and rolled his ass against the bed. "Thank you," he offered, soft but full of something strong.

Jenny leaned down and kissed him, not for the first time that night, but for the first time when they weren't actively in a scene. It was calm and sure and Clint melted for it. "You're welcome." She turned over and grabbed the lube from the nightstand, using her pinky to slip it under the rings. Clint had to breathe hard through his nose to keep still. It was the most erotic, confusing feeling he'd ever felt in his life.

"You're good to go," Jenny informed him once her hand disappeared and Clint was able to relax. "We'll be here when you want to see us again."

"Yes, please," Charlotte added and kissed him with enthusiasm. "Come see us again, Clint."

"I have a feeling I'll be back," he told them and let his hand find their bodies for just a moment before he sat up and scooted off the bed. "I'm sorry again. I wish I could stay longer."

"Don't worry about it," Jenny assured as he got dressed. He slipped his shoes on and looked back to the two women sprawled on the rumpled bedsheets. They were so inviting. Everything in him begged to get back into bed with them, but he had responsibilities.

"I'll see you," he confirmed and grabbed his phone before dashing out of the bedroom and then out of the apartment.

When he got to the compound, F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't hesitate to tell him that everyone was convened in his apartment living room. Not a conference room- that had to mean it had to do with him specifically and the only recent problem he'd incurred was one dark, vengeful god of mischief.

What had Loki done now? He didn't need this. Everyone was in a weird mood today. Three people cut him off on his way home. The sky was gloomy and tinged a weird green-grey from a surely incoming storm. He was tense and trying to hold on to the release he'd just found.

The elevator doors opened on his apartment and he took a deep breath before stepping out. Everyone was in fact sprinkled around his living room, some sitting, most standing. Tony saw him first and hastily made his way across the room towards him.

"He's in there," he blurted and waved towards Clint's hallway. Then Tony's eyes glanced down, attention caught by the bulge Clint was still sporting. By the grace of God Tony ignored it and looked back to Clint, waiting for an answer. Whatever was happening had to be important.

"I'm sorry?" Clint asked.

Steve came to stand next to Tony, arms crossed and feet a steady distance apart- the picture of strength. "Loki."

He'd known but the name still made his heart beat a little faster. "What about him?"

"He's in your room, Barton. Doing...something," Tony urged. Bruce came walking over, followed by Natasha- who was eyeing him with an intensity he didn't want to deal with at the moment. The scientist was holding a laptop on one arm and was typing on it with the other hand.

"I've been keeping an eye on a temporal disturbance but he hasn't tapped into it that I can tell. I'm not sure what he's waiting for," Bruce informed him.

"So why didn't you guys get him out of there?" Clint questioned, annoyed at Loki for ruining his first night with Jenny and Charlotte.

Natasha placed her hands on her hips. "We can't get in. He's got it protected or blocked somehow."

Clint nodded. He knew what was coming next. "You want me to talk to him, get in there and see what he's doing."

"You're the only one he'll talk to," Steve reminded. "If he's planning something, you're the only one that can stop him."

That made the archer scoff. If Loki was planning something, Clint would never be able to stop him. That was proven already. "I don't know what you think is going to happen."

"You have to try," Natasha pressed. "We need to see what's on the other side of that door."

Clint seethed internally, though he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Somehow he had become the bridge between his family and his enemy. The archer walked down the hall, ignoring the way the other Avengers' eyes followed him out of sight, and pounded a fist on his _own bedroom door_. The nerve of this god.

"Loki. Stop fucking around and open my goddamn door," he ordered, proud of how firm his voice sounded.

The next second, the door did open but then Clint was yanked inside and it was shut behind him. Now that he was in there, he wasn't sure he wanted to be but at least he could see what Loki was up to in his room...Which was nothing, it seemed. Everything was exactly as he'd left it, the bed unmade, the t-shirt he'd slept in hanging off the corner.

He was still scanning the room when he asked, "What are you doing in here? Why are you in my room _again_ after I know I told you to never come in here."

Loki didn't roll his eyes, but he might as well have with how he disregarded every word Clint said and took hold of Clint's wrist. "Come here, Barton."

Clint tugged, but the grip was sure. He knew Loki was stronger than him and wasn't in the mood to lose a limb today, so he followed, though he dragged his feet. Loki led him to Clint's bed, where he crawled on and sat, cross-legged, and motioned to Clint to follow.

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me what the hell-"

"_Please_," Loki begged, eyes squeezed shut tight. "We must hurry."

The word, the way he muttered it, had all of the air in Clint's lungs exiting in a punch. He'd only heard Loki say please once, during their week together, and it did something to Clint's brain that had him mindlessly crawling on the bed and sitting across from Loki with his mouth agape.

Loki seemed relieved that Clint decided to join him and held both hands out for Clint's. Clint didn't like this, it felt eerily close to intimate and he was still caged and being too close to Loki always did something to him. The god could see the hesitation and whispered, "Never would I strive to harm you, Clint."

It was a lie, Clint knew because Loki had harmed him, hurt him so deeply that Clint thought he'd never recover. But this wasn't that Loki. This Loki had never harmed his Clint that he could tell. This Loki was true to his word. Clint let his hands slid into Loki's and they settled between them. Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you sense it?"

Clint shook his head, realize Loki couldn't see him, then breathed, "Sense what?"

Loki smiled, small but so serene. "The opening. The universes are aligning and I may very well have a chance to glimpse mine with your help."

It seemed silly. _The universes are aligning. _Like they were in some science fiction novel, but Clint knew he'd confronted much weirder things. Maybe that explained the weird vibe in the air around people today. "I don't feel it," he confessed.

The dark-haired man wasn't put off by Clint's lack of sensitivity, he only nodded slightly and smiled wider, eyes still closed. "That will not hinder me. You are still my most prized possession and will do nicely to connect me to my home."Clint tugged his hand from Loki's on reflex at his claim. _Possession_. Loki was quick and tightened his grip and opened his eyes. "I meant no offense. Only that you are the one thing in the universe of any value to me and the only person of any meaning to me."

Too much. He needed Loki to stop talking. Now.

"What about Thor?"

Loki closed his eyes again, but Clint swore he saw something like hurt in them. "He is my brother and I will always hold a dear place for him in my heart, but my heart as a whole is yours and yours alone."

"Not me," Clint argued weakly. "I'm not him." It hurt to say and his voice went whisper-light on the last word.

It pulled Loki's eyes open one more time. "No, but you are very close." Clint felt a hard place in himself break, crack just a little at the foundations, and his vision blurred around the edges as his eyes slipped closed. The gravity of the room seemed to intensify, growing dense and heavy as it pressed in on him. It stole the breath in his body and even the pained whimper on his lips and when he opened his eyes again he was surrounded by light.


	13. XIII

Clint shielded his eyes with a hand as he blinked away the too bright light. He couldn't see anything past the shadowed shape of his forearm, but already he didn't feel right.

"Clint? Clint, what's wrong?"

Tony? That was definitely Tony's voice. As Clint's eyes adjusted, his suspicions were confirmed and the broad, shiny form of Tony's suit- sans helmet- came into view. Did Tony kick down his door again? He was going to be so angry if-

There was no door. There were no walls. He wasn't in his bedroom, Clint surmised as he looked around. They were outside. The hand not covering his face was pressed to cold cement and the air smelled like spring flowers and the distinct scent of magic. What the hell was going on?

"Tony," Clint started but realized he didn't know what to say.

Tony was kneeling in front of him in an instant and both hands were rubbing soothingly along his shins. "I know this is hard, but we have to know."

"What?" Clint questioned, a headache forming as he finally lowered his arm. "What's happening?"

Tony looked worried for just a moment before a look of pity overtook his face. "It's alright, Clint. We'll get him back. We won't stop until we do."

The sadness in Tony's voice took Clint off guard. Had something happened to Steve? Bruce? Him? "Tony, what's wrong?" Clint asked, sitting up straighter.

Then Tony look very confused and leaned over to press the back of his gauntlet to Clint's forehead. JARVIS's voice called out a solid ninety-nine degrees, making Clint startle. "Was that JARVIS? What is going on Tony?" He was becoming more and more aware that something was terribly wrong. His hackles were rising and all of his muscles tensed for combat. "Where are we?"

"Strange's, Clint. He said he had news," Tony informed him with a narrow of his eyes. "Clint, are you sure you're okay?"

"Strange? Stephen Steve? I didn't know we'd found him." He ran his hand through his hair. "I was just in my room with..." He didn't want to set Tony off by saying the god's name, but apparently, he didn't need to say it for Tony to know who he was referring to.

"Oh, buddy. I know it's hard, but Loki needs you."

That was not at all what he expected, making Clint stand and stumble back from the man that looked like Tony but couldn't be. His breathing was starting to go shallow and rough. "Excuse me? Why are you being so cool right now?"

"One of us has to be," Tony quipped and that sounded more like him. "We all miss him, but I know you miss him more."

Clint held up both hands to halt the onslaught of Tony's confusing words. "Woah, no. Who are you? We don't _miss _Loki. He won't go away. You hate Loki. I hate Loki most of the time." He realized right after saying it, his words were almost a confession.

Tony just laughed, but it was tense and laced with worry. "I know you're upset, but if Loki could hear you say that, we both know he'd do something to your ass I don't want to think about." He crossed his arms over his metal chest and cocked a brow. "We don't hate Loki. You especially don't hate Loki if those fading hickeys are anything to go by."

Clint's hand went to his neck instantly, scared of what was there. Loki hadn't given him any- did he? Clint hadn't looked in a mirror in a couple of days. Had Loki sucked a bruise into his skin while Clint laid with him. It didn't seem like something for the god to do without Clint's permission, but then, it was Loki. "It's not what you think." His blood pumped viciously under his skin.

Tony laughed again, brighter and more teasing. "Clint, it is exactly what I think and you stopped trying to convince me otherwise years ago. Why don't we go inside and have the doc take a look at you? You've been really stressed, understandably, and I think your mind is messing with you." He reached out and gingerly put an arm around Clint's shoulder, leading them up the pavement to a thick wooden porch and door.

Clint was so _confused_.

Where were they? Why were they here? Where did Loki go? Why was Tony being so...not Tony? He didn't have long to ponder it because a tall, dark-haired man answered the door in a ridiculous outfit that annoyingly reminded Clint of Loki's armor of choice.

"Hey, doc. Clint here isn't feeling well. Could you give him a look over while you tell us what you found?" Tony asked.

The man- Strange, Clint assumed- nodded with a low _of course_ and ushered them inside. "The parlor has a fainting couch," Strange directed them.

Clint scoffed. "I'm not going to faint. I'm a world-class assassin for fuck's sake."

"He seems fine to me," Strange added but led them to the parlor anyway. "My supplies are in here," he told Clint to soothe his pride. "Lay him down there," he told Tony. The moment Clint's back hit the soft cushion, he realized how tired he was and melted onto the furniture.

"He's saying stuff that doesn't make sense," Tony spoke only to Strange, voice tilted low for propriety's sake. "I think that losing Loki may have gotten to him."

"Woah again, boss. I didn't lose Loki. He's probably still at the compound in my room doing God knows what. It's not my fault he...did something to me." That was it. Loki had to of transported Clint and Tony somewhere. He got Clint out of his room so he could do whatever nefarious thing he was up to in there.

He didn't seem to convince Tony though, nor Strange for that matter, as they pointedly look at each other and then back at Clint. "Yeah, I'll take a look at him," Strange decided.

"Thanks, doc," Tony sighed and sat at Clint's feet on the couch. "What have you heard on Loki?"

Doctor Strange started pulling out medical supplies- a stethoscope, blood pressure sleeve- and made a frustrated sound. "Nothing good. That portal that took him didn't originate here."

"Here like New York?" Tony asked.

Why weren't they pay attention to whatever was going on here? He didn't even know they knew Strange! What the _hell_ was going on. Clint gasped in a breath, his lungs suddenly unable to inflate. He tried to steady himself and keep the rolling of his vision to himself.

Strange glanced back over his shoulder at Clint knowingly. "Here like our Earth," he answered Tony off-handedly.

"Our Earth? You mean it originated from _another_ Earth? That's not possible, doc. Even the theory that multiple dimensions could connect is perilous at best; it's not realistic," Tony argued, luckily distract from Clint for the moment before both of them turned to him and Tony sat next to him.

Strange turned and pugged his ears with his stethoscope and lifted the cold metal end to Clint's chest. Clint flinched but when Tony's hand rested on his knee, Clint allowed Strange to pull the collar of his shirt down a press it to his skin. He knew his heart was beating fast; how could it not? His brain felt like it was splitting open. The doctor seemed just as concerned as Clint when he pulled away and grabbed the blood pressure sleeve.

"How are you feeling Clint? Does anything hurt?"

"You mean besides everything? I feel like I was crushed by a Quinjet." It was true. All of his muscles were fatigue and yet still tensed, he had a massive migraine, his stomach was churning uncomfortably, he couldn't _breathe_.

Strange waited, counted pulses as he took Clint's blood pressure. "It's really high, Clint. You're breathing is off. I think you might be having a panic attack."

Clint gasped for air as he lurched, dry heaving around the terrible knot in his throat. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he leaned into it. The shape, the weight, was so familiar that he knew instantly to turn his head and kiss the thumb knuckle within reach. The hand snapped back, pulling out from under his lips so quick that Clint opened his eyes with a concerned crease to his brow.

"Loki?" he asked blearily, rubbing at his temple. The next second, he realized what he'd said and open his eyes wider. "Loki?!" Clint gasped and threw himself forward on instinct, upheaving Loki's calm position and throwing them both to the floor. "Oh, God, Loki," he urged as he lips landed on Loki's frantically. "Is this real?"

Loki's arms were around him then and hugging him close, returning his kiss eagerly. "I don't know," Loki answered and wound a hand behind his head, pressing Clint's mouth harder on his own.

"The dreams have been..." Clint licked into Loki's mouth desperately. "...so real. I can't tell sometimes."

"I know," Loki agreed. "Me, as well, my love."

Clint's veins shivered with relief, his blood pumping joy. He felt a wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. "Loki, Loki, Loki," he whimpered over and over, hands wandering over Loki's body to catalog each individual atom.

"I know," Loki said again and it was everything. They kissed, or rather, they mouthed wildly at each other until neither of them could breathe and Loki turned them over so he was laying over Clint and stroking his cheek. "Little bird," he whispered, making Clint arch up into him and smile.

"Yes, sir."

Loki's mouth was against his again, but just for proximity, because he kept talking. "You still look like him." A hand moved purposely down his arm to a scar that he didn't remember getting and rubbed across it. "You are within him."

"I- I guess. I don't know what's going on. I don't care," Clint implored. His hands were doing their fair share of wandering, up Loki's back and down to his ass. "You are exactly the same." That pulled a small laugh from the god as he finally kissed him again. Clint felt the familiar stirring in his gut but then stopped short, breaking their kiss and blinking in confusion. "Are you with this world's Clint?"

"No. Not like..." Loki assured but then shook his head and started again. "I wished to be. He is so much like you. I feel a pull towards him that I have only ever felt towards you."

"He is me," Clint surmised understandingly.

Loki was shaking his head again. "No, not quite. He doesn't respond to me the way you do. Where you reach for me, he holds up a hand to halt me."

Clint felt a moment of sorrow for Loki that any Clint could be so cold to him. "He doesn't know you like I do." Loki nodded. "But you wish he did?" Clint questioned.

The god sighed, thinking. "He needs me. He is at a precipice and if I am not careful he will fall instead of jump in."

"So you're domming him?"

Loki's brows furrowed. "No. He hasn't allowed me to."

Clint hummed and rolled his hips against Loki's obviously half-hard arousal. "Than what's this?" Loki looked confused as he looked down between them.

"I don't understand." Clint reached down between them, Loki's eyes firmly on his movements, and pulled his sweats and underwear down under his still caged dick and full balls. Loki growled, hand reaching for him before halting and laying it purposefully on the carpet beneath them. "That was not my doing," he seethed, and Clint could hear the blatant jealousy in the words.

"Well, someone is taking care of him, even if it's not you."

Loki growled louder then and did bring his hand to Clint's caged cock, squeezing hard and making his lover gasp and arch off the floor. "I wish for him to suffer for this."

Clint was panting, hand curled around the lean cord of Loki's bicep. "Loki," he whined. "Punish _me_." Loki's grip loosened the tiniest bit but then he tugged, pulling Clint's dick away from his body painfully. "Fuck!"

"Why would I punish you, little bird, when you have done nothing wrong?"

Clint reached between them and placed his hand over Loki's stroking his knuckles. "This Clint doesn't belong to you," he reminded and Loki snarled. "Yet," he clarified. "But I _do_. You can't punish him but you can punish me. I know you need to."

"My love," he cooed and kissed along Clint's sweating neck.

"How long has it been since you doled out a punishment? It was at least a week before you-before the accident, and I'm guessing you haven't hurt anyone since you've been here." Clint raked gently nails down Loki's back. "It must be torture. You need it, don't you?"

"Clint," Loki begged, burying his face in Clint's neck now to hide how right Clint was. "You've done nothing worthy of punishment."

A chuckle bubbled from Clint's lips. "Actually, I've been incredibly naughty since you left."

"I didn't _leave_," Loki barked. "I would never," he added, softer.

"Disappeared," Clint corrected. "I've haven't slept well, eaten often. And guess what?" He raised a brow. "I missed you so much that just last night I came stuffed full of dildo screaming your name."

Loki's face hardened and his eyes went dark. Clint knew that would be plenty to warrant punishment and he had to fight to keep his grin off his face. "You not only touched what is mine, but you came without permission?" Clint nodded in confirmation. Loki leaned back from Clint, taking him in with hard eyes. "What a useless slut you are," Loki hummed. "Why would your orgasm even be worth having without me there?"

"It wasn't," Clint agreed. "I didn't even feel anything, I just needed-"

"You _need_ nothing," Loki interrupted and Clint swallowed hard as he pressed his lips together. "Holes don't have needs." The dark-haired man pushed up to stand, glaring down at Clint's flushed face. "Present, cumhole." Clint shivered- he'd missed this side of Loki terribly while they were separated- and started stripping off his clothes while Loki watched.


End file.
